Myriad Memories
by pixie blue
Summary: AU after Oakleaf Bearers/Battle for Skandia. Will has returned safely from Skandia, but Halt is so glad to have him back that he doesn't realise Will isn't completely alright. Then, the worst happens. How will Halt cope with the consequences of his mistake?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Yeah, I know I should be working on the alternate endings and the sequel for Unwilling Assassin, or possibly coming up with something for RA: Future of the Kingdom, or some more MtfS chapters, but the computer guy still has my craptop, even though I was supposed to get it back MORE THAN A MONTH ago *glares at craptop dude* and it has all my story notes and chapter snippets on it. Feels so weird to be typing up a story on the desktop. Like I'm committing a crime or something. Anyway, this idea was actually kind of spawned from Unwilling Assassin (which you should read, by the way, if you haven't already :P), but has no relation to the plot or anything of said story… Weird, I know, but that's usual for me.

And many happinesses! I got into the Senior Vocal Ensemble at my school for next year! *sets off a multitude of party poppers and sparklers* I know this may not mean much to you guys, but it's something I've been hoping would happen since I joined Junior Vocal, so I'm very happy at the moment. Of course, this happiness may also equate to me being more likely to write! ;)

'Kay, back on track. This is AU sometime after Oakleaf Bearers – so, Will's come back from his enslavement in Skandia, and is still an apprentice, but mostly, he has recovered from his ordeals.

I've kind of been working on this for about a week now, but it's all stuff that happens in later chapters - with UA, I'd written chapters 2-8 before I finished chapter 1. I have parts and wholes of the next four or so chapters, so that may mean faster updates… but you also have to equate my laziness into that.

…And another thing. This kinda maybe has character death. Don't like it, don't read it. I know that I might potentially be losing readers by saying that, but I don't want you reading something you wouldn't want to read because you've been misinformed.

So, I shall apologise again for this not being Unwilling Assassin follow-up stuff (blame the craptop guy), stop droning on, and hope that you enjoy the story!

.:':. .:':. .:':.

It was Will's first mission since his return from Skandia, and he was burning to prove his skills were as sharp as before his ordeal. Infuriatingly, though, Halt seemed to be pointing out what Will should have seen, a split second before Will had been about to say it. This constant berating only served to make Will feel miserable and incompetent.

Halt looked at Will askance. Will's head jerked up. Was that a flicker of a smile on Halt's face?

"You need to lighten up, Will. If I had any skills of observation, I would have noticed that you were about to point these things out yourself. Though you fell much out of practice while you were… away… your abilities are nearly back to what they used to be. A little slow for my liking, but still passable." Coming from Halt, these words were lavish praise and Will straightened in his saddle, smiling.

The smile suddenly dropped. "Halt, what's that over there?" He nodded towards a strange-looking lump lying at the base of a tree, maybe twenty five metres away.

Halt frowned, urging Abelard forward. "I'm not sure," he called back to Will. "It almost looks like-" He cut himself off, not needing to tell Will what it was now they were so close.

A boy a bit younger than Will, lying unconscious on the ground.

"Must have been climbing the tree and fallen out," Halt murmured, gently turning the boy on his back. His brown hair was matted with blood, scratches adorning his bare face and hands. "Can you hear me, boy?" He shook the limp figure gently by the shoulder. There was no response. However, when Halt felt for it, there was a faint pulse.

"We passed a farm not that long ago. Do you think we should…?"

He nodded. "Just what I was thinking. This area isn't that densely populated; it's only when we get closer to the coast that the cottages seem to spring up every which way. Chances are that farm is his home."

.:':. .:':. .:':.

It was slow going heading back to the farm. They had draped the unconscious boy over Tug's back, and it was only by Will's insistence that the shaggy pony didn't buck the poor youngster right off.

Late afternoon had settled in by the time they reached their destination. A plump, motherly woman with eyes that looked puffy, like she'd been crying, appeared at the door when they knocked. "Rangers!" she squeaked, apparently as wary of them as any other common person. "What's wrong? Has something happened?"

Halt allowed Will to step forward, figuring his more youthful and open face would instil better trust in the woman. "We were riding out on a mission and found an unconscious boy, a little younger than me, lying under a tree. We'd hate to impose upon you, but this was the closest-" Will was cut off by the woman's cry of horror. She had seen the boy hanging limp over Tug's back, and recognised him.

"Liam!" she wailed, lurching forward. Will rushed to Tug, making sure he wouldn't mistake the woman for someone meaning him ill-will. "My poor baby boy," she whispered. Her hands fluttered uselessly over his lifeless form. Glancing at Halt for confirmation, Will gently lifted the boy - Liam - from Tug's back and looked to the distraught mother for guidance.

Pressing a hand to her mouth to hide her trembling lips, she guided Will inside. Halt followed.

The farmhouse itself was fairly small, but cosy. The woman led them to a room furnished only with a bed, dresser and low table. Glimpsing at the woman for permission, he lowered the boy onto the bed.

"Gods tell me he isn't…?"

"No," Halt assured her. "There was a pulse, although faint. He should be fine within a few days, I would think."

She drew herself up, suppressing her tears. "Thank you for bringing him here, Rangers. His father's out chopping firewood, but should be back in a few hours. I'll tell him then, what…" Her voice trembled. "What happened. What did happen, exactly?"

"I'm not quite sure. We found him already insensible underneath a tree. One can only assume he was climbing, slipped, hit his head and fell." Halt's eyes softened imperceptibly. "I'm sorry we don't know more."

"…Oh. I see. Would you like to stay for dinner? It won't be anything special, but definitely tasty and filling."

"We appreciate the offer, ma'am, but we must be going. We are out on official Ranger business."

She nodded rapidly. "Of course, of course. Why else would you be in a sleepy place like this?" She made a shooing motion towards them. "I'll not hold you from your duties. May the gods bless your journey."

"And the same unto your son," Will said politely, and both Ranger and apprentice left the house.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

"Come on Will, time to get up."

Will groaned, swatting at the foot nudging him, still clinging hopelessly to the last vestiges of sleep.

Halt raised an eyebrow. "All these years, and you still won't get up early?"

"WhosaidIwasn'tup?" he mumbled sleepily, the words blending into one another and he finally sat up. He wasn't fooling anyone. After rubbing his eyes, he cracked his lids, bracing for the morning light.

But it wasn't there.

He panicked internally for a second, then realized that Halt had woken him up even earlier than usual. That, coupled with the fact that he'd had another nightmare of his time in Skandia, exacerbated by the sound of waves crashing ashore at the nearby beach, Will was sorely tempted to slump back to the ground and sleep for another year or so. However, he knew Halt would never let him get away with it, so he stood, swaying slightly. Conditioned from his training and fieldwork, he packed away his sleeping roll and anything else that he'd left on the ground without fuss, whilst Halt prepared some coffee. By the time he was finished, the steaming beverage had already been poured into two separate mugs, one of which was being extended to him. He accepted it gratefully, ignoring the fact that the liquid was scalding his throat over the need for a hit of caffeine to wake him up. It did do the job, but not as well as he'd hoped. He was too tired to disguise his weariness and was half-hoping Halt would notice and let him sleep for a while longer.

"What's that look for, Will?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing."

Halt nodded. "Good. We need to get going, or it'll be another week before we catch these bandits." They both knew he was exaggerating, of course; they had found fresh tracks the day before, and the only reason they hadn't found the bandits already was because they had felt obliged to return the unconscious Liam back to his family, and that had eaten away at the time. That was also part of the reason Halt had woken Will so early – to make up for the time they had lost.

They quickly mounted, and made the short trip to the bridge, crossing it now that the water was low enough.

The early afternoon sun shone on the two Rangers as they approached the bandits' makeshift camp. Will and Halt dismounted before they got too close, and quietly crept towards their target. There was a cacophony of sound – the bandits clearly weren't expecting an attack, what with their numbers. They weren't too many for the two Rangers to take on, though. With the bandits so unsuspecting, it would almost be too easy. Now they had reached the outskirts of the encampment. In a moment, they would swoop down on the bandits, raining arrows upon them before they could blink.

Will and Halt stood without a sound, remounting Tug and Abelard respectively. Just as they were about to rush the camp, a horn sounded out. They flinched. Suddenly, the trees behind them exploded with men, any noise from their prior movements having been disguised by the racket coming from the camp.

It was a trap.

One of the men leapt at Will, wildly waving a sword. Will shot him down in an instant, but then all the other men erupted into a frenzy of action. Like a flood, they widened a gap between Will and Halt. They crowded in close to the horses, meaning both Rangers could only loose a few arrows before being forced to fight with their daggers. It took only a split second for them to realise they'd have to run, or their horses would be killed or crippled. However, with the swarm of men around them, they would almost definitely be separated.

The choice was easy.

Will pulled on the reins to wheel Tug around, but the horse had already had the same idea. Halt did much the same with Abelard, but the crush of men and dense forest meant that the two Rangers did indeed get separated. Some of the men broke off to chase each of the Rangers, but they quickly fell behind, and they rushed back to the camp to fetch their horses. He could only watch for a little while, though, because the forest was so thick that one misstep could send him and Tug tumbling.

He rode for about ten minutes before the brush became so deep that he had to slow Tug to a walk to pick his way through a safe path. Eventually, the path began to widen again, and Will's heart lifted, reasoning he was reaching a small beach, from which he might find a path to a town where he could wait for Halt.

But there was no beach, only a cliff with a twenty metre drop and a promise of a crushing death against the rocks. Reluctantly, Will realised he'd have to turn around and find a new way out of the forest.

Retracing his steps proved harder than he had anticipated. One moment, he'd be sure he was going in the right direction, then suddenly end up in an open glade. Finally, though, he found the path he had taken upon leaving the camp. Then he heard the unmistakable shout of voices and clatter of hooves heading his way. Cursing, he spun Tug around and leapt back into the brush.

He let Tug find a way on his own, watching instead for the low branches and twigs that clawed at his face. His hands were a flurry of action, batting away the offending tree limbs, and quickly became scratched and bloody. He couldn't resist glancing back to see how far behind his pursuers were, and maybe this combined with his lack of sleep caused him an inattentiveness that resulted in him being smacked out of the saddle by a branch. What was worse was that the bandits seemed to know the area far better than Will, and by the time Will had scrabbled back onto his feet, they had almost closed in on him. He wouldn't reach Tug in time.

"Tug, go!" he screamed at his horse. "Get out of here! Find Halt!" He kept on screaming as he fought his assailants with his knives. The horse danced, torn between wanting to help his master and wanting to follow his master's orders. Tug's training won out, though, and he cantered off to find another way out.

Will knew there were too many of them to be able to fight them off with his daggers alone, but still he tried. When his throwing knife became lodged in the bone of one of his opponent's arms, he fought with only his saxe knife. When he lost that as well, he fought tooth and nail. A burly, club wielding man swung at him from behind, and Will only had enough time to turn enough to see him in his peripheral vision before he took the club to his head and was crushed by a roaring wave of darkness.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: Oh noes, Will! What have I done to him? Find out in the next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Yeah, I'm way too lazy to give the chapters titles. Maybe when I finish the story, I'll go back and name them. But probably not.

Oh, and I was kind of worried that this was starting off too similarly to UA, but since no one mentioned it and I've gotten such positive feedback, I'll assume you all either haven't read UA, didn't notice or didn't care. :P

On the same note, an answer to RoMythe's question: Yes. Yes they are. I'm fairly sure not one person in my year hasn't had theirs break or malfunction in some way, and the "protective" cases were all but decimated within the first month of receiving them, they were that bad. Despite their tendency to be so unreliable and their general craptopiness, I still want mine back. D: If only for the fact that it has all my story notes on it and I can take it into my room to work on my stories without being distracted by my brother's near constant pestering.

What else was there…? Oh yes, I changed the title to Myriad Memories instead of just plain old Memories, because it just sounded, y'know, cooler. Or at least I think so. Don't know about you guys. Do you approve?

Enough of my blathering. Enjoy chapter 2!

.:':. .:':. .:':.

"Damn it." Halt cursed. He had escaped the pursuing bandits, but in the process he had lost Will. Now, he was combing the forest for signs of his apprentice, though evening was close to falling and he still hadn't found anything. For all he knew, Will could have been captured. _Don't think like that, _he berated himself. _Will's fine. He'll be fine._

Abelard's ears pricked forward with interest, and he quickened his pace. "What is it, Abelard?" The horse looked back at Halt, then tossed his head enthusiastically up the path. Halt let hope rise. Had Abelard found Will?

His heart dropped into his boots as he saw a distressed Tug turn at a bend in the path and trot towards him.

Riderless.

Ignoring for now the foreboding feeling aching in his gut, Halt dismounted and ran forward to calm the frenzied creature. "Where's Will, Tug?" he murmured to the horse. Tug kept to his namesake and wrenched himself out of Halt's grasp, turning back up the path. He danced a few metres back the way he had come, then stopped, looking seemingly impatiently at Halt.

Halt smoothly remounted Abelard, and Tug sprang off up the track. Eager to find what had become of his apprentice, he urged Abelard to match the small pony's pace.

They flew through the forest up a narrow and winding track, and even with his superior navigational and tracking skills, Halt was beginning to feel a little bit lost. Suddenly, Tug came to a standstill in the middle of the path - if it could be called that. It was so sudden, in fact, if Abelard hadn't been a Ranger horse and trained for split-second reactions, he would have careened right into the pony's rump.

Even in the failing light, Halt could easily tell that there had been a struggle there recently. There were gouges from weapons cut into the trunks of many of the surrounding trees. Blood was scattered in patches and smears on the ground, some partially trampled by the movement of many feet. Faint indentations showed where bodies had been previously lying, indicating that they had been there for several hours before they had been disposed of. Halt knelt down, scrutinising the handful of impressions. His feelings were mixed. On one hand, he was flooded with relief that none of them were small enough to have been Will's. On the other, he was disappointed that Will had taken out so few before being overcome.

Then, with a pang of guilt, Halt remembered how tired Will had looked that morning. At the time, he'd put it down to having had to rise so early, but now realised what a blind fool he'd been. Will had been looking tired every morning since returning from Skandia. He obviously hadn't been sleeping well, but being typical Will, had put on a brave face and pushed through the days. Dropping his head into his hands with shame, Halt knew he should have seen these things much earlier. It could've prevented Will's capture if he'd just taken the time to notice something wasn't quite right. He'd been too glad at having Will back to notice the subtle differences, and whenever he did glimpse them, he blamed it on the after-effects of Will's addiction.

"I can't lose him again. Not so soon." Halt whispered brokenly through his fingers.

At some point, Halt had sunken into a sitting position, his hands still covering up a face riddled with self-blame. Both horses, though now thoroughly distraught, knew enough to let Halt grieve alone. Instead, they hung their heads and settled into a light doze, ready to wake at the slightest sound.

By the time Halt moved his hands again the sun had already drifted past the horizon, the stars now twinkling through the gaps in the branches and leaves above. The two horses woke and turned their heads towards him, eyes shining in the darkness. Halt sighed, even more aggravated with himself for getting so caught up in his emotions for so long. He would have to wait until morning to set off in search for Will. _And then it might already be too late_, a small voice hissed in his head. He pushed the thought away and brushed down the horses as best he could in the dark, but it still niggled at the back of his mind as he rolled himself into his cloak and fell into an uneasy sleep.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

It was like he was deep underwater.

His vision was blurred, his hearing muffled. Even though he strove to break the surface of the watery world his mind had trapped him in, his progress was painstakingly slow. Though it was still progress.

Bit by bit, he returned to consciousness, his senses sharpening to their usual standards. There were a large number of men murmuring to each other not far off, and periodically they would shout out triumphantly or burst into rancorous laughter. His eyelids felt heavy, and his head pulsed where he'd been smacked by the club. With more effort than he should have needed, he sluggishly opened his eyes.

"Ah, our sleeping beauty's awake!" a man called, earning jeering laughter from his companions. One of them strode over to where Will was lying and hoisted him to his feet. Still not being fully recovered, Will's senses were set reeling, and he stumbled forward on shaky legs.

"'E's a bit of a runt, inny?" said a pig of a man, absently scratching his cheek and chewing with his mouth open, leering at Will. The man who had pulled him up gave Will a shove, and, disoriented, went sprawling at the man's feet, much to the delight of all the men gathered there. Laughter spread once more through the group.

The man lifted Will of the ground again, whose head was now lolling from the sudden oscillations between standing and lying down.

"Come on, Laurent," another of the men said, grinning wickedly. "Stop pushing the kid around like that, or he'll get so dizzy he'll end up throwing up on the King! You don't want that, do you?"

Will couldn't see him, but he assumed Laurent had an equally unpleasant smirk playing at his lips. "You've got a point there. Besides, now he's awake, don't you think it's time we took him to see the King? I'm sure he will find a Ranger most interesting."

The men laughed cruelly at Will.

"I don't envy you, kid." The pig-man chortled, clutching his ample belly.

"Get me some rope so we can tie this whelp's hands up. Don't want him doing something stupid." Will felt exceedingly nauseated and it took everything he had just to keep standing, let alone trying to resist the rough knots being pulled tightly around his wrists. Laurent pushed him forward when the men were done. Will stumbled again, but didn't fall. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing him humiliated again.

He drew a lot of stares as he was marched towards the large tent situated in the middle of the camp. Many of the men shouted obscenities at Will. Uncomfortable with all the unwanted attention, he unconsciously tried to make himself look as small as possible, as if that would somehow help him evade the eyes watching him. It didn't work.

Inside the tent wasn't much better. Sure, there were no more jeering calls to futilely try to escape, but outside, there was no six-foot-plus behemoth of a man with a pair of dark eyes that seemed intent on boring a hole through Will's skull. He was almost tempted to reach for his forehead, just to check it was still smooth and in one piece.

"Welcome, to my humble abode, Ranger," the man suddenly boomed. Will almost jumped out of his skin. "I hope my men have been treating you well."

"I think 'well' would be a bit of a stretch." Will wanted to slap himself; this didn't look like a man to trifle with. But the man leaned back in chair and laughed richly, a golden crown pendant bouncing on his chest with every movement.

"He has a bit of fire in him, doesn't he? I always like a man with a sense of humour even under pressure."

Will said nothing.

Laurent slapped him resoundingly on the back of his head, almost knocking him off his feet. "Show more respect to the King," he hissed.

Will held the gaze of the man in front of him and stood proud despite his bound hands. "He's no King of mine." Laurent went purple with rage, lifting his hand towards the club at his belt.

"It's quite alright, Laurent," the King said, making a dismissive hand gesture. "But if my patience wears thin, you'll be the first to know." Laurent nodded reluctantly and stepped back. He turned back to Will. "Now, let me introduce myself. I am the King of the Bandits, but since you seem uncomfortable with calling me by a royal title, you may call me Bandit." He smiled softly, but his eyes stayed hard as ever. "After all, can't just go giving you my real name, can I?"

"I don't know what you want with me, Bandit, but you won't get it. I'm only an apprentice; I'm not privy to any important documents or battle stratagems. I'm not of value as a hostage, either. It's part of the job description – after all, if King Duncan would pay ransom for a captured Ranger, then every wrong-doer in the country would be trying to catch us to make some cash, and that would be quite an annoyance to us in our work."

"You shouldn't be so quick to devalue yourself," he murmured dangerously, standing up out of his seat. He was far taller than Will had estimated. "Because if you are of no use to us, that makes you a dead weight." Will gulped at Bandit's emphasis on the word _dead_.

Mouth dry, he forced himself to ask, "And if I were of no use, what would happen to me?"

Bandit's gaze intensified and Will couldn't help but shrink in on himself. "If you are of no use to us… Then we dispose of you." He nodded to Laurent, and before Will could realise what a grave mistake he'd made, he was sent back under the pounding sea of unconsciousness.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: *sweat drop* Knocked out _again_? I think Will's getting into an unhealthy habit there. XD I'm so mean to characters.

-pixie.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Before you freak out, yes, we are briefly revisiting Liam's parents, but not to worry, there'll still be plenty of our favourite grim Ranger and his apprentice. ;)

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Liam's mother had been loath to leave her son lying unconscious in the house by himself, but her husband could not take their produce to market without her. It was simply too large a load for one person to take on. Her appearance was deceptive; she might have been a bit portly, but she was certainly strong enough. But, bearing in mind their child, they made the entire event go by as quickly as they could, and were almost home by the time of sunset, after having left early afternoon. Their haste had taken its toll; Liam's mother stumbled over a rock in the path and fell. She didn't look like she wanted to ever get up again.

Her husband gently picked her up and placed her on her feet. "Come on, Ava, Liam is waiting for us at home. We're almost there." He smiled gently, even though his eyes were saddened. She nodded, dusted off her skirt and picked up her side of the cart's handle. They set off once again, even more determined than before.

They were in such a hurry that they almost missed the small cloaked figure lying face-down at the side of the road.

Ava was the one to spot it. She gasped and dropped her side of the handle. Her husband, mistaking the sound for her having reached her limit, let his side go and reached out his hands to catch her, but was surprised to find her not falling at all, merely staring at something past their cart. He followed her gaze, and too saw the outline of the diminutive form in the failing light.

"Oh, David," she murmured to her husband, and, overcoming her initial shock, she stepped over the forgotten cart handle and rushed to the body. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she took in the mottled grey-green cloak and tousled brown hair. There was no mistaking the fallen figure. "Oh dear," she whispered, stricken. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear."

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Countless years of being forced to rise with the sun meant that for Halt, it was as natural as breathing to wake at a time when only the animals stirred. Unfortunately, it didn't make him any less tired upon waking, so he made short work of his morning coffee, wanting to get moving and closer to finding Will as soon as possible. The bitter liquid scorched his throat, and he was sure that he now had blisters and burns in his oesophagus, but he'd worry about that later. He had to find Will before anything happened to him. In the span of a few seconds, he had packed up.

He knelt down and inspected the tracks left by Will's captors, shaking his head in disgust. They'd obviously come back to take away the bodies of their fallen comrades, yet had made no effort to disguise their passage, even though they knew there was still another Ranger - that they had attacked - roaming the area. Then again, maybe the bandits had been clever enough to realise that no matter what they tried, any decent Ranger would still be able to pick up on their trail. Perhaps, then, instead of wasting time on a futile effort, they had rushed back to their camp to set up a defence. Halt rubbed his chin, standing up slowly. Whatever the case, he couldn't leave Will with people that most likely intended him harm.

Abelard trotted over and bumped his head against Halt's shoulder, sensing that his master wanted to get moving as quickly as possible. Taking a moment to first affectionately rub his horse's snout, Halt vaulted into the saddle and set off along the bandits' trail, Tug following closely behind.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

The camp was empty.

Halt felt like screaming in rage. Not only had they kidnapped his apprentice, they had run away like cowards! _But really, did you expect any less?_ The voice of logic asked. _They are bandits, after all. And it won't be hard to pick up their trail again. If they didn't disguise their tracks before, they're unlikely to start now._

Taking a few calming breaths, Halt set Abelard into a slow jog through the scattered food, fireplaces, and smaller tents that had been left behind as the evidence of the bandit's occupation. Another path had been trampled by the bandits' retreat, and Halt set off up it without hesitation.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

"We should stop here." Bandit directed his remaining men to dismount. The majority of them had gone ahead to scout out possible new campsites for the evening. "What say you, lads?"

There was a general chorus of consent, however, one of the men nervously asked him, "What if that other Ranger shows up, looking for revenge?"

He grinned. "I think you boys gave him too good a chase for that!" They roared in approval. "Besides. He'd have to spend days combing the forest for our tracks. Not even a Ranger can cover that much forest in less than one day."

"Really? And here I was, thinking people put more stock in our abilities than was true. Seems it's the opposite." Halt appeared seemingly out of nowhere, arrow aimed straight at Bandit's chest. "Where's Will?" he growled.

Bandit's eyes bulged with shock. "W-Who?"

"My apprentice!" Halt snarled.

"I-I don't know!" he stuttered, suddenly losing his usually casual stance in the face of such life-threatening danger. "I ordered my men to dispose of him. They just tossed him into a ditch by the roadside somewhere!"

Anger flashed in Halt's eyes. "I'm going to assume the best, and that your idiotic henchmen didn't kill him. This is good for you; it means you won't suffer a painful, drawn-out death." Before Bandit could realise the full implications of Halt's words, there was an arrow sticking from his chest. He blinked, once, twice, then fell to the ground, his vision permanently darkened. Halt dispatched the few men Bandit had had with him with brutal efficiency, swiftly remounting Abelard when he had finished. "Just hold on, Will," he muttered as he cantered back to the main road. "I'm coming."

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: Sorry, this is a little shorter than the others. However, the next three chapters will be posted in a three-day bulk (meaning a new chapter every day for three days). Just give me a couple of days to polish them up before I start posting them (because although I've written most of chapters 5 and 6, I have yet to write anything for chapter 4. DX Can I just say though, unless I get bored and lump everything together, this will probably be one of my longer stories. So for your sake, I hope I don't get bored. :) I say this now, because what will be chapters 1-6 was only supposed to take up 3 chapters, but I instead expanded into 6 (and could possibly become 7, if I write too much for chapter 4).

-pixie.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: *takes deep breath* Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry! D: I sort of forgot about this story for a few months or so, that's why I haven't posted anything. *dies of shame*

So, I've had a fiddle with the summary - I like the new one better, how about you guys?

Anyway, you may not remember, but I promised a three-days-three-chapters bulk posting. I'll still be doing that, albeit a little (lot) later than intended. But now, it's five days, with five chapters total! Chapter four ended up being a lot longer than I had anticipated, so I split it into three chapters. After that, I'll be doing a similar bulk posting for MftS, for those who read that as well. And after _that_, I'll try to make updates on this more regular.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

It had only taken Halt a few minutes to find the tracks of the men who had thrown Will into a ditch, seeing that they had rejoined the party he had just annihilated. He felt a savage pleasure that the men who had hurt his apprentice were already dead, with an intensity that would have worried him had he not been so worried about Will.

Of course, these men didn't really have any sort of skills at tracking or concealment, so their path was blindingly obvious. Halt could almost have tracked them with his eyes closed. Hopeful in the prospect that the trail would lead him to Will, and, stubbornly refusing to think that there was even the slightest chance that Will could be seriously injured or even dead, he sent a discreet signal to Abelard to pick up the pace. Tug followed quietly behind them.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

An hour passed before he burst out of the woodlands and on the side of a long, dusty road. Here, the tracks were faint, and Halt had to dismount to read the slight indentations on the hard road - which was compounded by the fact that it was a fairly well-used track. However, its main use seemed to be bringing produce to markets, so the marks on the road were all lengthways, with the exception of the men whose tracks he was following. They led clearly enough - to Halt, anyway - to the opposite side of the path, then doubled back. This had to be where they had left Will.

He gave Abelard and Tug the command to stay and crossed the road.

There was nothing there. Only the faintest of marks of where a body had lain, the slightest bend of the lay of a certain section of the grass. But it was exactly the right size to have been Will. He scouted around the sight, covering the area around the place where Will had been, but turning up with nothing. He checked the road to the side, finding the impressions of day old cart tracks, and it seemed that they had been responsible for moving Will, as none of the other tracks on the road were recent enough. He was hoping that whoever had found Will were good people, seeing as those who weren't didn't tend to pick up unconscious bodies from the side of the road. He shook his head and turned back to the tracks on the ground. Every moment he wasted could be putting Will in unnecessary danger. True, it was most likely that the folk who had picked Will up were of a kind sort, but it never paid to make assumptions.

The scenario started to play over in his head as he looked at the smudges and scuffs in the hard-packed dirt – almost undecipherable due to the road's much-used state, but still readable by someone of Ranger talent – here, where there were two sharp indentations about two metres apart, the cart handle had been dropped. Then the wheel tracks setting off again, pressing slightly deeper due to the added weight of Will.

Halt beckoned Tug and Abelard over, swinging lithely up into his own saddle and setting off down the road. As long as it followed a single path, he reasoned, there was no need to inspect every scratch and mark of the cart tracks. He had deduced that it was a large, cumbersome affair, unlikely to take kindly to being handled off-road. If he reached a fork in the road, he'd dismount and relocate the tracks. It was common sense – he'd make much faster time this way.

Any common passer-by would have been extremely confused by the scene that followed. Without any sort of discernable signal from Halt, the two horses shot off almost simultaneously, and, keeping within a quarter-metre of each other, would have left everything behind them in a billowing cloud of dust.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

The sun had lazily crawled its way to its peak noon mark by the time Halt's chosen path split. He felt that the countryside here looked familiar, and with a rising sense of hope he realised that this was the path to the farm owned by Liam's parents. Will was most likely in their hands, then, and with them, he'd be safe. After all, they had saved his son – they had seemed the sort of people who would return the favour. Will was safe, Halt told himself. He had to be.

Tug and Abelard seemed to recognise the area too. Their ears pricked forward and they neighed to each other, tossing their heads the way horses do. Halt allowed a rare smile to creep onto his face. "So, is he here, boys?" he murmured, patting Abelard on the neck. They both chose that moment to turn and look at him, a glint of confirmation in each of their eyes. He raised an eyebrow. "Okay then. Lead the way." He made a gesture up the path, where the farmhouse could be seen as a tiny box in the distance.

It grew rapidly larger as they cantered forward, dirt and dust flying from under their hooves, Tug's gait a little quieter due to his lower carry weight. No one was in the fields, but that made sense; most people would be having lunch now, when the sun burned its brightest. It seemed this family was no exception.

If it were any other time, Halt would feel a little bad about disturbing honest folk while they were eating, but his urgency to verify Will's safety overrode any such emotions. He dismounted in one smooth, practiced motion and knocked firmly on the door.

Once again, it was Ava who answered the door. Her eyes were slightly red-rimmed and worry creased her face. At the sight of the grizzled Ranger on her doorstep, her eyes widened and the tears threatened to slide over her cheeks once more. Halt felt his heart sink. This didn't look good.

"Is Will here?" he asked.

The tears spilled over as she shook her head, biting her lip. "No, he's not here."

"Ava? Who's at the door?" The voice of David floated out from somewhere inside the small farmhouse. She held up a trembling hand to gesture to Halt to wait for a moment, then half-turned back inside to give a response.

"It's the Ranger who found Liam."

"Oh." The reply was muted, and Halt felt his heart drop through the bottom of his soft leather boots. None of this was boding well at all.

"Do you know where he is?" Halt urged Ava.

Silently, she nodded, the tears now coming at an increased pace. She stepped outside, motioning for Halt to follow. His had flickered the signal to stay at Tug and Abelard, and they obediently dropped their heads and started grazing. Ava gave them a fleetingly curious glance but otherwise continued to a point that lay south-west to the farm, hiding the horses from view.

Halt's step faltered as he saw that she was leading him to a rectangular mound of recently turned dirt, a simple pile of stones heaped at one end. He glanced a question at her and she nodded solemnly, stepping back a few paces to give him some space.

He stared down at the grave, not wanting to believe what was in front of him. He barely noticed as Ava quietly slipped away and headed back to the farmhouse.

At some point, he could never recall when, he realised the strange sticky feeling on his face was his own tears, coursing down his cheeks in a constant flow. For some reason, the tears made it all seem real. He fell to his knees, silent sobs wracking his body which he did nothing to hold back. Will deserved every tear that Halt shed for him, and a million more. He fisted his hands in the dirt of the grave, already growing damp with the relentless stream welling from the corners of his eyes.

It wasn't fair. Will had struggled to make it through his imprisonment in Skandia, and then strived to get better faster than was even possible, just so he wouldn't let his master down.

Will deserved so much more than what he'd been given. Instead, he'd been buried in an unmarked grave, so young, in a place he barely knew. He should have been around for decades more, constantly nattering off at tangents and getting under Halt's feet, his naturally joyful and likeable personality getting him out of any real trouble. He should have had many more adventures ahead of him, then died after a long and happy life. He should have been surrounded by the people who loved him as he was lowered into the ground. That should have been so far into the future, long after Halt himself was dead and gone.

The master shouldn't have outlived his apprentice.

Suddenly, Halt glared at the cloudless, brilliant blue sky with a vengeance. It shouldn't have been so bright and cheerful on such a terrible day. The sky should have been almost black with heavy, rain-swollen clouds, precipitation pouring out of them in a torrent that felt more like you were standing under a waterfall than standing in a downpour. The clouds should have been punctuated by flickering tongues of lightning and accompanying roars of thunder so loud that the ground would shake. The wind should have been howling like it felt the agony that Halt was feeling.

But most of all, Halt should have been able to protect him. He should have seen that Will wasn't ready for field work just yet. It would have been an exceedingly traumatic experience – no person would be able to properly recover in the time Halt had given. But, Will being Will, he had done the best he could and covered up where he hadn't completely succeeded to please his mentor. Halt had been naive enough to fall for it. He'd been so happy at having his apprentice back, still in one piece, that he'd been blind to the fact that Will wasn't actually okay. And on top of that, he should have realised that the bandits had set up a trap for them. This self blame was almost worst of all, a shame that settled heavily on his shoulders like a sodden cloak of misery.

The only thing worse was the knowledge that Will was gone, and he was never coming back.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: *le gasp* I killed Will? Oh noes! That wasn't a nice thing to do, especially when it's the first chapter I've posted in months! DX

But let it be known: _**this is not the end.**_ There will be many more chapters before I'm done with this story (and I mean more _after_ the four I'm bulk-posting). Wait and see – I think you'll be interested where I go with this. And with that mysterious comment, I bid you farewell. *sweeps a Phantom of the Opera cape around herself*


	5. Chapter 5

Halt could have spent an eternity crouched in front of the grave, hands in the dirt and tears cutting down his cheeks. By now, the whites of his eyes had gone completely red and his cheeks had gone puffy. Small flakes of salt encrusted the tear tracks, now dried since the glands in Halt's eyes had refused to release any more moisture. He felt like a dried-out husk, life completely sucked out.

Ava had been standing behind him with a small bundle in her hands for some time, unsure of whether or not she should disturb him. She would take a few determined steps forward, then shrink back uncertainly from the figure hunched low to the ground. With his cloak on, and motionless as he was, he almost looked like a counterpart to the rocks heaped at the other side of the grave. Though Halt would have usually heard her shifting feet by now, he was too submersed in sorrow to notice.

Finally, she made up her mind, taking a couple of steps towards Halt and planting her feet firmly. "Ranger?" She called nervously. His head whipped up and he spun around so suddenly that Ava leapt back involuntarily. Blushing slightly at her reaction, she led out the bundle. "This was with him. I'd kept it because it seemed a shame to throw it away, but I thought maybe you'd like to have it?" She ended the sentence so it became a question.

Without a word, Halt accepted the small piece of wrapped cloth. As he unfolded it he caught a glimpse of bronze, and realised it was Will's oakleaf. His eyes flashed angrily at Ava. "Why didn't you bury this with him?"

She hurriedly retraced her earlier steps, taken aback. "I-I didn't know that I should have. Is it some sort of Ranger custom to? I would have if I knew."

Halt looked deflated all of a sudden, like he was wearing a larger man's skin. "Never mind. You couldn't have known." He tucked the medallion into his breast pocket, patting it to make sure it was secure. He knew he should have made a hollow in the dirt in front of the pie of stones and buried the bronze pendant, but then he'd be letting go of the last thing he had of Will. He couldn't bring himself to do that.

"...I'm sorry about what's happened, Ranger."

He stared at the largest stone in the cairn at the head of the grave and his eyes managed to gather enough moisture to squeeze out two more tears. "It shouldn't be blank," he murmured absently, more to himself than to Ava. He edged around the side of the mound of dirt, careful not to tread on it. He pulled out his saxe knife as he went. It wasn't the ideal tool for what he had in mind, but it would do.

The tip of the knife bit easily enough into the stone, and with his hand shaking slightly, Halt began to carve in an epitaph for Will.

_Here lies Will. Loyal friend. Dedicated Ranger. The greatest of us all._

He felt another pang in his chest, knowing that Will deserved better than a crude etching of words on a river stone. It wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough. But it was all that could be done.

Sunlight glinted off the two tracks of tears on Halt's cheeks, and he wore them proudly. He was letting the world know how much he cared about Will, and didn't give a damn what anyone else thought.

Ava spoke softly after a long silence. "I'm terribly sorry, Ranger, it was very rude of me, but I never asked your names when you returned my son."

"I'm called Halt," the grizzled Ranger replied quietly. It seemed fitting to talk in low tones, standing in front of a grave as they were. She started with recognition at the sound of the famous Ranger's name. She would have expected someone taller, and less unkempt. However, she bit off the words before she spoke them, knowing how insensitive it would sound. The man had just discovered that his apprentice was dead, after all. Then another realisation hit her – if this man was Halt, then the boy he was mourning would have to be the Ranger's apprentice Will, already famous in his own rights.

"So he must be..."

"Yes," Halt murmured. "His name is Will. Was Will." Making the amendment was a reflex reaction, but nonetheless painful. Another fat tear rolled down his cheek.

"Thank you for giving him a proper burial," he told her, his voice cracking. "I am in your debt." Abruptly, he turned away from the grave and headed back towards the horses, currently hidden behind the farmhouse.

Ava watched him go in confusion. Why would he leave so soon? She decided to chalk it up to the usual Ranger strangeness.

Halt made his way towards Abelard and Tug, only now scrubbing away the salty residue left on his cheeks. The fine crystals stung his skin as he rubbed at them, his hands becoming lightly dusted with white, like a miniature snowfall. As he reached the horses, the light breeze that had been blowing steadily in from the north-west, now switched so that it sighed in from the south-west.

Suddenly, Tug reared and neighed, nostrils flaring. Halt stared in confusion, then gathered that the change in wind would have brought Will's scent to Tug's sensitive nose. After all, it was now blowing directly downwind of the grave. The shaggy pony started forward, not seeming to care that there was a farmhouse in his way. Halt hurried to catch the frenzied animal's lead rein, lest he wreak havoc upon the farmhouse and its unsuspecting inhabitants. "Tug! Calm down!" He didn't shout, but he spoke in an authoritative tone of voice that somehow managed not to falter. "Will's gone!" Tug tossed his head despairingly, pulling at the rein and nearly tearing Halt's arm out of its socket. he held on grimly as he winced; his arm would almost definitely be sore for a few days now.

"Tug! Away!" he barked, impatience and grief finally causing him to raise his voice at the small horse. Tug was stunned into silence. "Follow," Halt commanded in a more reasonable tone, and he swung up into his saddle when Tug hung his head in acquiescence. They headed out, Tug following forlornly behind Abelard.

He didn't understand. His master had been here, and probably was still – Tug could smell him. Abelard's master cared about the boy too, so why didn't he use his tracking skills to find him? If Tug were in charge, he would have torn up the entire farm to find Will. But he wasn't, and orders were orders. With one last mournful glance behind him, Tug obediently cantered along behind the larger horse and his rider.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

The trip back to Redmont should have only taken him a few hours, riding on a Ranger horse as he was. Instead, it took Halt until the next morning to get back home. The rest of the day passed in one agonising blur. Halt would eat, ride for a few hours, eat again, ride some more, then have a dinner of hard rations and coffee before rolling into his cloak to sleep. He wasn't making as much ground as he would have at any other time, because he wasn't really in any hurry to get to his destination. Going home would mean having to explain to everyone that he had failed his apprentice.

Tug would make occasional whining noises and turn his head in the general direction of where the farm lay, now hidden by trees, villages and the horizon. The first night of their return to Redmont, Halt had seriously considered having to hobble Tug, but eventually decided his Ranger schooling would keep him from bolting. For Tug, Halt was next in the chain of command after Will. Even if he didn't like his orders, his ingrained training meant he would obey them.

Of course, he couldn't postpone it forever, and within twenty-four hours of leaving Ava and David's farm, he was riding into the village that was tucked in next to Redmont's hill. People cast inquisitive glances at Tug's empty saddle, but Halt, sitting straight-backed, steadfastly ignored them all. He knew that all the villagers would have known that the Ranger and his apprentice had left for a mission a few weeks beforehand, so naturally they would be curious as to where he was gone, but no one asked him. His face, set in grim lines, coupled with villager superstition about the Ranger Corps, discouraged any attempts at conversation.

Halt picked his way through the crowds, Tug trailing behind, until they finally burst out of the cluster of cottages and onto the path that led to the cabin in the woods. Another few minutes of riding, and Halt was home.

It didn't feel like it without Will, he thought sadly as he led the two shaggy mounts to the side of the cabin. He automatically removed the tack and all other effects from the horses, who grunted in appreciation at the relief that action brought. A few minutes later, both Abelard and Tug had lidded their eyes with pleasure as Halt brushed them down with a curry comb. Only once he was sure that both horse were clean, content, fed and watered, did he go inside and look after himself.

A thin veneer of dust had gathered on every surface during the cabin's inoccupation. Halt cleared the table of the powdery grime and threw out the vaseful of dead flowers that he'd forgotten to clear away before they'd left – when the blooms had still been living.

And just like the flowers, the house felt dead, now that Will wasn't here to brighten it up with his lively chatter and cheery disposition. Halt had never realised just how bleak the cabin could be without the irrepressible young man he had come to view as a son. Dispirited, Halt made himself a simple meal that he hardly touched and a coffee that he ended up letting go cold. To tell the truth, he was just postponing the moment when he had to go up to the castle and give his report. He knew that then he would have to say, out loud, that Will was dead, and he knew that would just increase the pain tenfold. Saying it seemed the ultimate finality.

Sighing, he finally stood. It was probably best to just get it over and done with as quickly as possible so he could mourn in peace. He went out to the lean-to and resaddled Abelard, leaving Tug dozing lightly in his stall. He made short work of the trip up to Redmont castle, and was on his way to the Baron's office when he ran into Pauline and Alyss, who were whispering with each other and giggling like schoolgirls. He always thought that Pauline seemed younger when she was with her protégé, and now the years seemed to have been stripped away, her beauty shining through brighter than ever.

"Halt!" Pauline immediately straightened and gave him a warm smile. "Back from another thrilling adventure filled with action and bravery, I presume?" The corners of Alyss' mouth quirked, but her smile faltered as she took in Halt's grimmer than usual expression and glanced around the otherwise empty corridor.

"...Where's Will?"


	6. Chapter 6

The grizzled Ranger dropped his gaze as he fished around in his breast pocket. Alyss and Pauline exchanged worried looks. Finally, Halt pulled out Will's burnished bronze oakleaf. The two women stared in incomprehension as the chain coiled around itself, then rotated in the other direction, the medallion glinting as it spun. Alyss was the first to understand what Halt meant.

"No..."

She sagged against her mentor, clutching at her arm for support. Aghast, Pauline too realised what Halt was trying to tell them. "Halt, you can't mean..."

He nodded grimly, looking up again as the tears eked out of the corner of his eyes. "Will's dead." With a start, he realised that it had been the first time he had spoken since leaving the Ava and David's farm. It saddened him even more that those had to be the first words to come out of his mouth.

But then Pauline stepped forward and gathered both her blonde apprentice and the grizzled Ranger into a hug. Alyss clung onto them both like she was drowning. Halt surprised everyone – including himself – by returning their embrace with an intense force. They stood there for a long time, a crying, shaking huddled trio of mourners.

A castle worker, who by coincidence happened to be walking down that same corridor, noticed the sad group. He recognised the castle's Head of Diplomatic Services and the castle's Ranger, one of the most famous in the Corps. For them to be so outwardly miserable in a relatively open pace like this, something would have to be very wrong. Forgetting whatever it was he was supposed to be doing, the servant ran in the opposite direction to which he had been going to go and fetch the Baron.

They were still leaning on each other when the servant returned, a slightly out of breath Baron Arald trailing behind him. As soon as he was sure that the Baron had seen the trio, he bowed and scuttled off to return to his work.

Pauline's head shot up at the sound of his rapidly retreating footsteps, and she met the concerned gaze of Arald, who had just stepped forward to ask them what was wrong. Then, like Alyss, he noticed that someone who should have been there, wasn't. "What's happened? Where's Will?"

Alyss and Halt looked up at the sound of the Baron's voice, and he actually took a few staggering steps back as he saw Halt's face. He was a haggard wreck – his white hairs seemed to have doubled since the last time Arald had seen him, the lines on his face more harsh and pronounced. Most striking of all, however, were the two tear tracks glistening on his cheeks. Arald was shocked. Halt was an indestructible force of legend. He never cried.

Sunlight, filtered through a nearby window, glanced off the medallion still clutched in Halt's fist. The Baron glanced down involuntarily as the brief shine caught his eye, and saw the bronze oakleaf dangling from Halt's fingers.

"...Is he dead, then?"

Their despondent expressions were answer enough. His hand passed over his face, the sweeping motion seeming to add years to his countenance in its passing. "Halt," he began finally, voice husky with emotion. "I understand that you may not be up to it just yet, and no one will blame you. But you'll have to submit a report, telling us what's happened."

Halt nodded. "No, I'm up to it. Let's go to your office. Get it over and done with." He squeezed the words out through a throat that felt too tight for them. "I'll dictate. You write. Pauline, Alyss... if you'd like to know what happened, come with us. I don't want to have to talk about it any more than I need to." He motioned for the Baron to lead the way, then followed after him, his gait stiff and upright. The two women quickly glanced at each other, nodded once, and hurried to catch up.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

"We'd been following the group of bandits for about a week," Halt told them. He was sitting in one of the large plush chairs in Baron Arald's office, and his diminutive figure was swallowed up by its cushy expanses, making him seem like a child. The way his feet swung several centimetres above the floor and his hands were clasped on his lap only enhanced this image. He shook his head. "I should have seen it. I was pushing Will too hard. He hadn't completely recovered from his time in Skandia, but he covered it up because he didn't want to disappoint me."

Arald had barely written anything down, save for the duration of the mission. In any other situation, he would have told Halt to stay on topic, but then again, in any other situation, Halt would have written this himself and submitted it to him. The Baron sensed that the Ranger needed this story told, no matter how painful it was for him to recount it.

"We were coming up on the bandit's encampment." Halt cleared his throat. What had happened afterward was a sore spot for him – the entire reason that Will was dead was because Halt had failed to realise that the bandits had set a trap for them. He was still unsure as to how they had known Halt and Will were coming in the first place. "I should have realised, but I didn't – they'd set a trap for us. We fell right into it." Baron Arald tried to disguise his frown of disapproval, but he wasn't quick enough. Halt nodded glumly. "I know. I failed.

"We managed to fight them off long enough to escape, but we ended up getting separated. That was the last time that I saw Will." He took a shuddering breath, then his voice was firm once more. "I searched for him as soon as I was sure I had gotten the other bandits off my trail – they seemed to know the area very well, that's the only explanation as to how they even managed to keep up with Abelard for as long as they did." Arald's quill scratched across the parchment, hand shaking slightly. Pauline and Alyss, tearstained, hung on to Halt's every word. "I found where the bandits had captured him – there were cuts in the trees and puddles of blood everywhere, and a trampled path back in the direction of the bandit camp. It was too dark to follow after them by then, so I set out the morning after. I found their camp empty, but more tracks leading away from it. I found them as they'd stopped for a break, and they told me that they'd tossed Will in a ditch on a roadside." His hands clenched into fists on his lap, his nails digging into the skin of his palms. "Understandably, I got more than a little angry about that, and I got a little... aggressive." He smiled humourlessly. "Let's just say those bandits won't be bothering anyone ever again." Arald nodded with grim satisfaction.

"I don't think any of us mind your aggressive tendencies in that sort of situation at all," the Baron said, as he wrote the closing sentence of the report. _Despite the casualty sustained, the mission was ultimately a success._ He pushed the piece of parchment away from himself before he smudged the ink with his tears.

"There's still more." The other three looked up as Halt continued once more. "The day before Will was captured, we'd found a boy lying unconscious under a tree. We took him to the nearest farm, which, in fact, turned out to be his home. Then we set out again after the bandits, and you already know how that went." His tone was bitter now.

"Anyway, I had been following the tracks of the men who had left Will at the edge of the main road, and found that he'd already been picked up by someone else, so I followed their tracks. The tracks led to the farm owned by Liam's parents, the one Will and I had left a few days before. They had found him, and had taken him with them to give him a decent burial." His voice broke on the last word. "The mother gave me Will's oakleaf, told me she was sorry." He fought valiantly to keep the tears out of his voice, but he didn't entirely succeed. Pauline broke through her own grief to put a comforting hand on Halt's shoulder before taking Alyss by the arm and leading the quietly sobbing girl out of the room.

Halt nodded to Arald and stood up, turning to leave himself. The Baron's voice stopped him. "Halt. I understand that you feel this is your fault, and perhaps it is." The words seemed harsh, but he knew they would hurt less than a lie. "But you did everything you could to try and make it right," he continued strongly. "Even though it wasn't enough, I know Will would forgive you for it." Halt turned back to the Baron, a sad half-smile on his lips.

"Thank you, Arald." The Baron nodded, and Halt turned to leave again, but he wasn't finished speaking yet.

"Halt," he said softly. "Your apprentice just died. I know how much you cared about him. Hell, he could have been your son, you two were so close. Take a week or so off. Only deal with something if it's urgent."

"I appreciate the gesture, but you don't have the authority to do that."

"Halt, King Duncan would understand," he said in a placating tone. Halt whirled around to face him.

"Yes, he would understand. But he wouldn't allow it. Kingdom first, yourself last. It's part of the job description." His eyes blazed with conviction, mingled with sorrow. Clenching his fists at his sides, he turned away from the Baron. "I'm sorry, but I have work to do." So saying, he flipped up the cowl of his hood and silently left the room, blending into the shadows, wishing he could make his pain disappear as effectively as he could make himself seem to.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: I couldn't get that last sentence to sound quite right, and it was much cooler in my head. D: Ah well, it's the best I could do. Hope you enjoyed it!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Yay, I've got over 100,000 words archived with FanFiction! *insert happy dance of choice*

Ahem. Back to sad seriousness now.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Of course, sooner or later, word had to get out about what had happened. And when it did, everyone in Araluen was affected. Will's death was something that shook Araluen to the core - it was the loss of a hero, and his young age made it all the more tragic.

But every cloud has a silver lining. Just because he had died, didn't mean he didn't still affect people's lives. In fact, in his ascension to an Araluan legend, he did more so than in life.

One such case was Liam, the boy Will and Halt had found unconscious under a tree shortly before Will died. Will - and Rangers by extension - became a big influence in his life. He didn't want to become a Ranger himself. No, it was too daunting a task to live up to the likes of Will and Halt, and all the other legendary Rangers. But they did provide him with motivation at many times in his life, and the thought of them spurred his courage in situations he would have otherwise run away from.

It might look like Will's story has finished, but that is far from the truth; a story does not end with the character. The story lives on in those who know it, or even part of it. Until there is not one person left on the earth that knows the slightest smidgeon of information of a story, it will not die. Even when it may seem like the end, it is only a new beginning…

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: Was that… Me? Being profound? *snorts* As if that'd ever happen. *shifty eyes*

Oh, and before you freak out, the chapters about Liam will be interspersed with chapters about Halt and everyone else on how they cope over the years, etc.

-pixie.


	8. Chapter 8

There was a dull pounding in his head, thrumming and reverberating against the sides of his skull, as he gradually returned to consciousness. It took him a while to muster the willpower to open his eyes, which felt like they'd been glued shut, and even longer for them to adjust. His gaze wandered around the room that was slowly coming into focus. It was unfamiliar to him. The small, neat window across from the bed he was lying on - he assumed it was a bed, he didn't yet have the energy to sit up and check - had been opened, letting in a breeze that cooled his exposed skin. A shabby-looking chest of drawers nestled in the space between the end of the maybe-bed and the opposite wall. He couldn't see if there were any rugs on the floor, or even what it was made of. The scent of flowers hung in the air. It was a pleasant smell, even if he couldn't see the source. There wasn't much else he could see from where he was. If he'd been able to turn his head, he'd be able to see the door in more than just his peripheral vision.

Sudden movement at said door spiked his curiosity, and he finally found the strength to move his head so he could look at it. A short, slightly plump woman with soft brown hair, probably in her mid thirties, bustled through the door, carrying a tray laden with a jug, a cup, a bowl filled with honeyed porridge, a spoon, and a small vase of fresh flowers, which she placed on a low table that he hadn't been able to see before. She swapped the flowers sitting there with the ones on the tray. He noticed the flowery scent had grown a little stronger. _Well, that explains where that was coming from_, he thought. The woman picked up the tray again and turned towards him, a huge beam lighting up her face once she saw he was awake. She put the tray back down and swept across the small expanse of the room, hugging him closely and smattering his face with kisses. Confused by the sudden attention, he subconsciously pushed her away.

She looked hurt. "Sweetie, what's wrong?"

He had no idea who this woman was, and for her to be so affectionate towards him had only served to increase his confusion. He didn't know where he was, and with a jolt he realised that, more importantly, he had no clue _who_ he was, or even how old. For all he knew, this woman could be his wife, or sister. "Who are you?" he asked without thinking.

Her eyes saddened and she pulled back. "Honey, how could you not remember your own mother?"

"I don't even know who I am."

Tears sprang to her pale blue eyes. "Oh, darling… you're my son, Liam. You were climbing in a tree, then you fell out and hit your head on the ground. A Ranger and his apprentice luckily happened to be passing by, and brought you back home… It's the only house for miles, but they didn't know you lived here. It was just coincidence." Her self-restraint broke and she started crying. "That was almost a month ago. Your father and I had started to have doubts to if you would wake up again…" A smile suddenly lit her face again through the tears. "Your father! He'll be so happy you're awake!" So saying, she rushed out of the room to find her husband, leaving a very confused Liam in her wake.

Alone once more, he let his gaze wander again. Almost immediately it rested on the food tray that had been left behind. He started to salivate. The food seemed impossibly far away, considering his severely weakened state, but his growling stomach galvanised him into action. Gently, he pushed the covers off and eased himself into a sitting position. Each action caused beads of sweat to form on his brow. He stood slowly, taking a few ungainly steps before collapsing, the sheet now strewn behind him like a tangled sail. Even more slowly than before, he dragged himself over to the table, and he may or may not have been leaving a small trail of drool behind him, that may or may not have been consequently smeared across the wooden floorboards by his trailing bedspread. Hands clutching at the table's edge, he finally had reached his prize. He was almost too exhausted from his ordeal to pick up the spoon. Almost. His stomach roared at him, and his muscles eked out one last smidgeon of energy so he could eat.

The first vestiges of his strength returned as he swallowed the honey-smothered oats as soon as he could get them into his mouth. While he ate, he let his mind wander.

He wondered why it was that he couldn't remember anything. Then he remembered what the woman - his mother, he corrected himself - had said. He'd been climbing in a tree, then fallen and hit his head. He knew that could cause memory loss - evidently, in his case, he had still retained his general knowledge. It was just personal knowledge that had gone missing. A wave of relief washed over him, despite his situation. True, he had lost a lot of memories, but at least he hadn't lost everything. He couldn't begin to imagine what it would have been like having to learn everything from scratch.

From what his mother had said - it still felt strange calling a woman he felt he didn't know his mother - he lived in a secluded place, with only his mother and father for company. That would certainly make things easier; he would really only need to relearn whatever he did to help around the house, and reacquaint himself with his parents. It would have been harder if he had been living in a busy town, for example- he would have had to rebuild memories of dozens of people and places.

So far, there was little else he knew, apart from his name. _Liam_. He tested it in his head. It definitely had a familiar texture about it. Besides, what reason would his own mother have to lie to him about something like that? The more he thought about it, the surer he was that it was his name.

During his musings, his mother had returned, a moderately muscled man of around the same age close behind. His dark brown eyes seemed troubled.

"Father?" Liam asked tentatively, after hastily wiping some smudges of porridge from around his mouth. His father's face broke out in a grin.

"You gave us a good scare there, son," he said, the relief evident in his voice. "I almost didn't believe your mother." He enveloped Liam in a bear hug, holding him close. "It's good to have you back, Liam." He smiled and inhaled his father's scent. It was warm and earthy, comforting.

Patting his father awkwardly on the middle of the back - seeing as he couldn't reach his shoulder - and replied. "It's good to be back… father."

Pulling back, his father rested his hands on Liam's shoulders. "Your mother told me what's happened… How you can't remember anything."

"That's not perfectly true," Liam interjected. "I remember how to walk and talk, and all kinds of other things a normal person can do, I'm sure. It's just the personal memories that are gone." His father grinned again, mussing his son's hair.

"Fair enough. But, your mother and I will make every effort to help you make new memories of us, and our house and farm, to replace the old ones. We'll tell you stories of when you were just a little boy, and eventually it might even seem like the accident didn't do anything at all." He looked so hopeful that Liam couldn't help but let his heart swell. Here were two loving, dedicated parents ready to commit themselves to rebuilding his life. The least he could do was give it his all.

Liam's mother stepped forward, embracing both of them. "I'm so glad," she whispered. "So, so glad. The gods have truly blessed us in this." Warmly, Liam returned the hug. The arms circling him - both his mother's and father's - made a safe, comfortable haven.

Even if he didn't remember any of it, he was home.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I'm not going to bother apologising for not having updated in so long, because nothing will be adequate. All I can offer is the promise that I'll work as hard as I can on finishing this story without letting it lapse into a state of neglection again.

Okay, now who's ready to learn about the uses of various pieces of medieval farming equipment? (Just read the chapter. It'll make sense, I promise.)

.:':. .:':. .:':.

"Okay, so how about this one?" Liam's father pointed at farming tool with a long, wooden handle with a protuberance about half-way down. The top ended in a curved blade of iron.

Liam's brow furrowed in concentration. "That's a scythe. You use it to cut grass crops, like wheat and hay. You hold onto the top handle with your left hand and the middle one with your right. Then, you hold it low to the ground and move it right to left by twisting your body. You need to stop a lot to sharpen the blade as it gets dull."

David nodded, then pointed to the next tool, another long-handled piece ending in a wide, flat blade at ninety degrees to the handle. "And this one?"

"That one's a hoe. You use it to turn over a field before you plough it by hacking up the larger clumps of dirt, and bringing fresh soil to the surface." Without waiting for his father to ask, he point to another piece of farming equipment, this one reminiscent of a hand cart with a blade sticking out of the bottom. "That's a plough. It makes furrows in a turned field that you later plant crop seeds in. This one is a man-powered versiom, though you can get bigger ones that are drawn by horse or oxen. That's what we're saving up for now, as well as a horse to go with it."

His father smiled with approval. "Very good. You think you're ready to help with the fieldwork?"

Grinning eagerly, he nodded. He'd been learning about all the things he'd have to do around the farm for the past few weeks, but as of yet he hadn't been allowed to use any of the equipment because his father hadn't deemed him ready. The forced inability to help ate away at him, and he was looking forward to the chance to prove himself.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a hazy blur of churning dirt and perspiration. At the end, grinning and hair plastered to their foreheads with sweat, father and son looked out proudly over the gently steaming lines of fertile soil. "That's good work there, Liam. You can take pride in that." He mussed his son's wet locks, surreptitiously wiping his hand on his shirt afterwards. Laughing, they cleaned and packed away the tools into the shed and returned to the farmhouse, where Ava was waiting with a cool jug of water and some home-made bread and jam spread. They devoured the prepared meal with abandon, the long hours in the fields having worked up quite an appetite.

"Now don't eat too much," she admonished them gently. "You have to leave room for dinner." Both of them nodded, then continued to shovel the jam-covered slices of bread into their mouths. She bustled past the table to the other side of the tiny kitchen to start preparations for the evening meal, and her nose wrinkled at the assault of dirt and sweat that hung over the two like a cloud. "And make sure you wash yourselves as soon as you're done with those! You're stinking up my kitchen."

.:':. .:':. .:':.

"Oh, you must have been about seven at the time," David chuckled, animatedly waving his spoon as he spoke. It was dinner; as had become custom for them, it was a time that they used to tell Liam stories of his childhood to fill the void in his memories. "You were so _convinced_ you were as good a climber as a Ranger. You never seemed to believe the stories, even before your Accident..." he trailed off momentarily, his laughter dimming. They all now referred to the time when Liam had fallen out of the tree and lost his memory as his "Accident". Bringing it up always seemed to put a damper on the mood.

"It's okay, Dad. Keep going," Liam encouraged him. As he'd grown more used to life around the farm, he'd started calling his parents by Mum and Dad, rather than Mother and Father. The latter two seemed too formal for everyday use.

He cleared his throat. "So, you were climbing this tree, going up so high... Your mother saw you, and it gave her a little start."

"A little start!" Ava exclaimed, placing a hand over her heart. "Dear Lord, I was terrified! I ran out of the house, screaming at you to get down before you fell down!"

David grinned. "I heard the noise from the fields and thought the chickens had gotten loose." He glanced affectionately at his wife, who was giving him an admonishing look. "I don't know how I ever made that mistake. I ran over to round them back up into their cage, and found your mother shouting up at you in a tree. You looked like all her yelling had glued you to the branch." Ava shook her head, still slightly ashamed at her overreaction, even after nearly a decade.

"In the end, I had to climb up and get you down. You'd managed to get yourself up pretty high - I was scared that the branch would break under the weight of both of us. I had a hard time prying you off that branch, too. You had a pretty tough grip for a kid. We got down safe enough, but Ava still had to hug you for near half an hour before she was convinced you were fine."

His mother blushed, clearly embarrassed. Liam laid his hand over hers on the table. "Dad, leave her alone. She was just worried, that's all."

"No, no, your father's right." She smiled a little ruefully. "I was never able to have any other children than you - they never survived more than a few days, if they were even born at all." Tears brimmed in her eyes. "That's why I'm always so cautious when it comes to you. You're so precious to me, and I don't ever want to lose you." Wordlessly, Liam rose from his seat and moved to the other side of the table, wrapping Ava in a tight embrace.

"It's okay, Mum." He glanced meaningfully at his father, who acquiesced with a nod that he'd been a little insensitive, and joined in the hug.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

The rest of the meal was spent in a comfortable silence, except when David or Ava would recall a particularly amusing anecdote of Liam's childhood. As they were clearing up the bowls and spoons, David told Liam, "I've decided because of all your hard work today, you've earned yourself a trip to the village for market day tomorrow."

Liam nearly lost his grip on the crockery in his excitement. "Really? You think I'm ready for that?"

His father nodded, grinning at his enthusiasm. "You used to come with us every time when you were too young to stay home by yourself." His tone turned serious. "Now, there might be some people who remember you from when you were a child, but you won't remember them. People know you had the Accident, and they know you lost your memory... Though they'll probably think it the sort of thing where you'll remember them if they talk to you long enough. If any of it gets overwhelming, just let me or your mother know, and we'll do whatever we can to help you. We'll even leave the market early if we have to."

He reddened. "I'm sure I can cope."

"No, I didn't mean it like that, I just-" He sighed. "We've never had to deal with something like this before. We don't know if being in a big crowd could somehow set off your memories, or make you have a breakdown." He placed the dishes at the side of the wash basin. "We just want to make sure you'll be okay."

Patting his father on the arm, he smiled reassuringly. "I'll be fine, Dad. I'm strong enough to do this."

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Liam's heart pounded in his chest as the cluster of cottages came into view. The cart, laden with an assortment of eggs, wheat, meat, fruit and vegetables under a cloth sheet to keep the sun off, trundled along in the firm grip of all three of the family members.

It was early afternoon, and many of the stalls were still setting up. This was the norm for market days, as the sun had passed its zenith, meaning the temperature would gradually cool down and leave all the perishable goods intact. They hastened to find a place to put up their stall, using the shade cloth and a few planks of wood they had brought with them. Ava took a basket and her coin purse, heading out to peruse the other stalls for the things they would need over the next week. David, meanwhile, taught Liam how to hawk goods in a marketplace.

The next few hours were exhausting for him, learning and remembering the prices and trading equivalents of all sorts of items. He stuffed his brain with the knowledge, eager to please his father. Being almost seventeen now, Liam knew that he was fast becoming a man, ready to marry and move onto a farm of his own. He needed to make sure he had all the skills he needed to be able to support a family.

David clamped his hand on his son's shoulder, squeezing it proudly. "You've done well today, my boy." He fished a silver coin out of their till and pressed it into his palm. Liam's eyes widened. "Don't even try to say it's too much," his father warned. "You more than earned it with the work you've put in. Now go buy yourself something."

Opening and closing his mouth a few times in shock, Liam finally settled on showing his thanks by grabbing his father around the midsection in a fierce bear hug.

"Careful there, Liam," he wheezed, chuckling. "You might just pop my heart out of my mouth if you keep squeezing me like that."

He hastily loosened his grip. "Sorry, Dad."

"It's fine." His father grinned, giving him a gentle shove out of the stall. "Go buy yourself something," he repeated.

Liam nodded, and with one last grateful smile, he dove into the crowd.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: So, I had a bit of a writing blitz, in that I've written five complete chapters, and about one-and-a-half chapters' worth of snippets. I won't be posting any more until Friday or possibly Saturday because I'm going skiing tomorrow for the first time (yay!) and I won't be able to post new chapters. When I get back, though, I'll put up a new chapter each day for as long as I can, and I'll really try to update more regularly. Until Friday/Saturday,

-pixie.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Change of plans – there were winds of almost 150km/h on the slopes, and it's going to be windy there for the rest of the week, so skiing has been postponed until that settles down. Good news for you guys is that you get the updates sooner! Yay!

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Liam hadn't quite realised the sheer variety of things for sale until he actually went to buy something. It was an assault on his senses - a cacophony of colour, noise, smells and even the tastes for various food items filling the air. Almost staggering from the sensory overload, he flitted from one stall to the next, everything catching his eye but nothing quite standing out from the others. His nose was burning and his eyes were watering after smelling a chopped onion without realising that's what it was when his noticed the blacksmith's workshop.

He threaded through the market crowd towards it, entranced by the rhythmic swing of the blacksmith's hammer and he worked a formless piece of metal into a horseshoe. Cringing back from the sparks and blasts of heat, Liam looked in awe at the swords, daggers, horseshoes and other metal apparel hanging on the walls. Dunking the finished shoe in a nearby bucket of water, the smithy squinted at Liam through the resultant steam. "What're you looking like that for, son? People'll think you'd never seen a sword before!"

Blushing slightly, Liam tore his eyes from the wall. "I haven't, actually."

The smithy gave him an odd look. "You're, what, sixteen, seventeen? Of course you've seen a sword before."

"Well..." Liam scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. "I know what they are, what they look like and what they're used for. I just haven't seen one until now." He reconsidered. "Actually, I may have seen some, I just don't remember."

"Don't _remember_?" spluttered the blacksmith. "The sword is among the most majestic of weapons, if it's forged right. You don't just forget something like seeing a sword for the first time!"

"I don't remember anything of my personal experiences up until about a month ago," Liam retorted defensively, a little offended. The smithy scratched his stubbly chin thoughtfully.

"I think I heard about that. Let me see... Eve... No, it was Ava, Ava and David Newman. Those are your parents, right?" Liam nodded, and the blacksmith nodded along. "And you're Leo! No, wait, it was... Liam, wasn't it?" He seemed to be mostly talking to himself, but Liam nodded again anyway.

"That's right."

Sucking in breath, the smithy shook his head. "It's not right, just losing your memories like that. I can't even imagine, not remembering seeing my first sword..." His eyes grew misty. Liam glanced around, wondering if he could edge away without the blacksmith noticing. He was a bit of an odd man, and Liam was growing uncomfortable. Suddenly, though, he was back to business, and the window of escape was gone. "But I'm sure you didn't stop by just to talk about swords, did you, son? You want to buy one!"

Liam glanced again at the swords hanging on the wall. Somehow, he felt a single silver coin wouldn't cover the cost for any of them. "I'm not sure I can afford it."

The blacksmith waved a hand affably. "I wasn't really expecting you to." He pulled out a selection of daggers, each a bit longer than the smithy's forearm. "These are probably more in your price range. Two to three silvers each." Liam reddened slightly and muttered that he only had one silver coin. Without a word, the daggers disappeared under the bench and were replaced with a much smaller dagger in a plain scabbard. Liam said as much, not giving much thought to the words before they left his mouth.

A hearty chuckle rumbled through the blacksmith's entire body. "You're not exactly on the larger end of things yourself, son." Liam blushed again; certainly, when compared to the smithy's vast, muscled bulk, he did look something of a dwarf.

He leaned close to Liam, a conspiratorial glint in his eyes. "Son, I like you, and I feel sorry for you not remembering seeing your first sword. I'll let you have this dagger, and its scabbard and a whetstone for that silver coin of yours." Liam thought the smithy's offering was a bit strange, but he wasn't going to pass up a chance to get a discount on the dagger and its affects. He wasn't entirely sure why he wanted it, either; possibly to make himself feel a little more safe and protected in the crush of people present in the marketplace. He dropped the coin on the bench and the blacksmith scooped it up, pushing Liam's purchases towards him. "Have a nice day there, son. Make sure you don't stab anyone with that unless you absolutely have to." His eyes twinkled with laughter. Liam nodded, pushing the small dagger through his belt and slipping the whetstone into his pocket.

"Thank you." Liam tipped his head respectfully at the smithy, causing him to rumble once more with laughter. Smiling himself a little, and standing straighter with his new dagger strapped to his side, he made his way through the swarm of people and headed back in the direction of his family's stall.

"Adam, stop it." The female voice was strained and high, signalling her stress at the situation. Liam swivelled his head towards the sound and saw a girl, perhaps a little younger than himself, surrounded by three leering, hulking boys.

"Don't be such a baby. We're not going to hurt you," the blondest of the three replied in a tone that was probably meant to be soothing but came out greasy.

"Yeah, we're just having fun, aren't we?" another of the boys, this one dark-haired, added.

"Well, I'm not. Go away!" Her voice wobbled slightly, but she still managed to keep a brave face. This had obviously been going on for at least a few minutes.

Liam was torn. He really wanted to help this girl, but he was afraid the behemoths surrounding her would tear him apart if he tried. He doubted the dagger he had just bought would do much more than tickle them.

Then, the decision was made for him. The last of the boys, his hair a colour somewhere between that of the other two, grabbed her by the arm, nearly lifting her off the ground. She cried out in pain. "Let me go!"

Several of those nearby turned at the noise, and some started towards the group, but none were as fast as Liam. When the boy had grabbed her, Liam had thought, _would a Ranger like the ones who saved me do nothing in this situation?_ and, without any consideration of the fact that he wasn't trained for fighting like a Ranger was, he'd snapped and launched himself at the boy.

Caught completely unawares, the boy released his grip on the girl and even stumbled back a few steps. Not wasting the edge the element of surprise, he punched the blonde one, Adam, in the stomach. He fell back a little, but so did Liam, his fist throbbing. He'd had no idea punching someone would hurt so much. By now, the boys had gathered themselves and faced Liam in a formidable wall of muscle. Gulping nervously, his hand dropped subconsciously to the hilt of his dagger. "Leave her alone!" he shouted, thankful that his voice didn't crack.

Adam laughed. "You see that, Clark?" he asked his dark-haired companion as he gestured to Liam's small dagger. "Give a kid a silver-painted toothpick and he thinks he's a knight!"

A man from the ring of people that had formed around the fight attempted to step in and break it up, but the third boy, Brendan, pushed him back contemptuously. Several members of the crowd jeered at him. Liam used the momentary distraction to his advantage; he kicked the side of Adam's knee, and then between Clark's legs. He hit his first target, eliciting a groan of pain as he buckled sideways slightly from the impact. However, Clark reacted quickly enough that he was able to catch Liam by the foot and twist it, sending him sprawling in the dust. Then, he raised his own foot, ready to stomp on Liam's leg - and, with his size, quite likely break it. Liam quickly rolled out of the way and tried to hit Clark in the shin with another kick, but his fall had winded him and it was ineffectual. Angered, Clark hauled him up by the scruff of his shirt, feet dangling a good few centimetres off the ground. Liam tried to shrink back from the blow he knew was coming, and the entire crowd cringed in anticipation. His hand brushed against the round form of the whetstone, still in his pocket. _Oh, it can't get any worse_, Liam thought.

He pulled the stone out of his pocket and smashed it against the side of Clark's head.

With a grunt of pain, Clark dropped him in the dust again and instead reached to touch his forehead. When he pulled his hand away it was stained with blood. Hastily pocketing the stone, Liam scuttled away from him, using both arms and legs to propel himself backwards. Clenching his hand around the blood, Clark glared murderously at the struggling boy in front of him. Liam scrambled to feet, now almost at the edge of the circle, and cast a panicked glance around. Some of those gathered realised that Liam could end up very seriously injured within the next few moments, but that was all the more reason not to interfere - Clark's fury might turn on them instead.

Suddenly, the older boy swung out, aiming straight for Liam's head. He ducked instinctively and moved out of reach. This only served to make Clark madder, and he swung several wild punches, the last clipping Liam on the jaw. His head rung from the impact. Galvanised into action by their friend's success in landing a blow, Adam and Brendan started circling Liam as well.

He felt like a hunted fox as they tightened in around him.

The blows came from all directions. However, they were fairly uncoordinated throws, despite the boys' bulk, and Liam was able to evade most of them. A few resounding cracks of flesh on flesh did sound out, though, the onlooking crowd wincing in appreciation. They circled ever closer, and soon Liam would have no room for manoeuvrability. He didn't really want to think about what would happen then.

Eventually, they wised up. Adam and Brendan each grabbed one of Liam's arms, holding him in place for Clark. Many gathered there wondered why they hadn't thought of it sooner. Perhaps they'd wanted to put on more of a show for the audience, but that somehow seemed unlikely. Liam felt tiny and weak stretched out between the two boys. He couldn't remember why he'd thought this was a good idea; then, he caught the eye of the girl they'd been picking on. He gave her a grim smile. At least they were leaving her alone now.

Clark took a few steps backwards to give himself more of a run-up. Both Liam and the crowd shrank back, knowing whatever Clark did, it would hurt. With an aggressive grunt, he charged.

Helplessly, Liam closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and waited for the blow.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: Back in society for one day and he's already having his ass handed to him? Liam needs to work on his people skills. Actually, I need to stop bashing up characters. Somehow, though, I have a feeling the former is far more likely to happen. :P

-pixie.


	11. Chapter 11

The sound of the impact seemed to reverberate through the air - but the blow hadn't landed where expected.

Cautiously, Liam cracked one eye open. Clark was groaning and pulling himself shakily to all fours, the blacksmith standing over him. Adam and Brendan loosened their grip on Liam's arms in shock, and he quickly wriggled free. The smithy grinned and winked at him. "Heard the noise. Glad I could get here before you had to use your dagger." Still moaning, Clark tried to stand, but failed. His jaw was swollen and puffy, almost definitely broken. The blacksmith glanced at him contemptuously, then eyeballed the two other boys. "I suggest you go now, or you might end up like your friend here."

"We were just about to leave anyway." Adam attempted a defiant sneer, but it wasn't all that convincing. He and Brendan hauled Clark to his feet and led him through the crowd. The smithy patted Liam on the shoulder and made his way back to his workshop. With the fight over, the throng of people gathered began to disperse and head back to perusing the stalls. It took most of Liam's energy to keep himself from collapsing. He quickly felt his face and torso for injury, wincing as he hit the sore points. He would definitely be sporting a host of bruises the next day.

As he tried to gauge the severity of the damage done to his body, the girl walked over to him, hugging her arms to her chest. "You shouldn't have done that."

He glanced up from his inspection. "What?"

Her grey eyes stared into his. "They would have left me alone eventually. It's a public area - they couldn't've done anything too bad." She gave him a small grin, tucking a stray strand of black hair behind her ear. "Still, it was pretty brave of you to try and drive them off. Thank you."

Liam started to return the smile, but a sudden screech of panic stopped him. "_Liam!_" his mother shrieked, dropping her basket of wares. She swooped him up into her arms, frantically stroking his hair. She then held him out at arm's length, studying his dishevelled state. Knowing he was covered in dust and bruises, he felt himself shrinking under her concerned gaze. "Oh, my poor little baby! What _happened_ to you?" Smothering him in kisses, she swept him up in another hug. His eyes flicked back to the girl, and he blushed uncomfortably. Some of her gratitude had probably given way to amusement at his mother's babying.

"Mum, I'm fine, really." He squirmed out of her embrace, trying not to cringe as he jostled sensitive areas. "A group of older boys were picking on that girl, so I kind of jumped in and got tossed around a little. The blacksmith came along and sorted them out before I got too banged up."

"Blacksmith? What blacksmith?"

"Dad gave me some money for doing a good job at the stall today." He puffed his chest with pride, ignoring the pain the action caused. "I bought a dagger from the blacksmith."

"Your father let you buy a _dagger_?" She sounded scandalised.

"Well, no." Liam quickly defended his father. "He just gave me the money. I chose what to spend it on." He had a flash of inspiration. "I kind of hoped I'd be able to learn how to whittle wood and make things to sell at market days."

Ava's features lost some of their stress. "You're a sweetheart, thinking like that." She turned to the girl, who had been watching the exchange with interest. "I'm sorry, we've been incredibly rude. I'm Ava, and this is my son. Introduce yourself," she whispered at him.

"Right, sorry." He extended an arm towards her. "I'm Liam Newman."

She grinned, clasping his hand in hers. "Kaileen Alder." Tilting her head and squinting at him, she added, "I don't think I've seen you around at market day before. Did your family just move in nearby?"

Liam shook his head. "No, I just haven't been to market since I was young until now. I had an accident recently. Long story short, two Rangers, Will and Halt, found me and took me home. My parents thought I should be more involved with other people." He rubbed at one of the sore spots, grinning ruefully. "Maybe not so closely involved as I have been today, though."

Kaileen's eyes went round as saucers. "You actually _met_ Ranger Halt? And his apprentice, to boot?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Did they do any magic on you? Was it scary?"

Sheepishly, he scratched the back of his head. "Actually, I didn't really meet them. They found me unconscious under a tree and, like I said, took me home. I kind of fell out of the tree and hit my head. It made me lose my memories."

If possible, her eyes became even wider and her voice quieter as she leaned in. "You say that, but how can you be sure that it wasn't a Ranger spell that made your memories go away?"

Liam laughed. "I doubt it." She seemed disappointed.

"Hey, I've still got the scar from where I got hit, if you want to see." Tilting his head to the left, he pointed at a ridged line of tissue, stretching out from just above his ear and disappearing into his hairline. He'd only discovered it himself about a week ago, in his reflection in the water when he'd been washing up. Seeing she was intrigued, he added, "You can touch it if you like."

She reached out a tentative hand and gently stroked a fingertip along the scar. "Wow," she breathed. "Did it hurt?"

He shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. The close proximity had made him notice that Kaileen was, in fact, a very pretty girl. "Well, like I said, I was unconscious from it. When I woke up, I only had a little bit of a headache." He decided to skip the part where he'd been so weak he could barely move.

"Are you going to his commemoration?" she asked suddenly.

"Who's commemoration?"

"Oh. You hadn't heard? They're making a big event of it. It's for the Ranger's apprentice, Will, seeing how he died and all." Her voice dropped at the end of her sentence. "I figured you'd be going, seeing as he saved you."

"No, I hadn't heard about it yet," Liam murmured. He then turned to his mother. "Can we go? Please, Mum?"

Ava was taken aback by the sudden request. "Oh, I don't know, sweetheart. We'll need to have had enough notice..."

"It's three weeks and one day away," Kaileen chirped helpfully.

"And we'll need to buy mourning outfits - that could get very expensive. I doubt we'd be able to afford it."

Kaileen had a solution there as well. "My family's _huge_, so normally we wouldn't go to something like this - like you said, too expensive. But we found this shop that's offering to dye clothes black really cheaply for the event - the dye even washes out, so you can use the clothes like normal again later!"

"Whereabouts is it?" Liam asked.

"Just over there." She pointed to a little permanent shop tucked in on the corner. A cheery sign announcing the building to be Colin's Clothing.

Ava sighed, unable to say no to the shining hope in his eyes. "Oh, alright. We'll go. Next market day, we'll bring our clothes to get dyed. Now, your father's still waiting for us at the stall. We should probably get back to him." She smiled at Kaileen. "You can talk with Liam again next market day."

"Oh, okay. Bye, Liam." She rippled her fingers at him in a wave.

"Bye." He raised his own hand in farewell, then turned to follow his mother, constantly glancing back at Kaileen until the crowds hid her from sight.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: Yay, love interest!

What? When I'm not beating up characters, I'm a sucker for romance. Also, apparently, I'm having a one-sided conversation in which I anticipate your hypothetical reaction to the stimulus I provide you.

...I've been watching too much Big Bang Theory.

Yeah, I'm weird. More interesting than being normal, at any rate.

-pixie.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I finished writing this chapter, then looked at the word count and realised it was almost twice as long as my chapters for this story have been so far! I could've given you a long chapter, but, of course, I split it into two. There was just a point where it did really well to be the start of a new chapter (which I'll post maybe tomorrow, although it's more likely I'll post it the day after, as with the last two updates because I keep forgetting). Enjoy!

.:':. .:':. .:':.

In the weeks following, it seemed like he would only see Kaileen in passing, and she would melt into the crowd before he could say hello, or otherwise his family would just be leaving. Dispirited, Liam instead focused his attention on learning how to whittle. By the week of Will's commemoration, Liam had progressed to the point where the shapes were recognisable as different animals - but only vaguely. They were in no way ready to be sold as trinkets at the market.

That same week, Liam finally was able to talk to Kaileen again. His family had almost reached home when a cart drawn by three plodding horses and sporting a mass of children on the back drew up beside them. She hadn't been joking when she said she had a large family.

"Liam!" she called out happily, patting the one space left on the cart. "Come and talk!" He glanced at his parents for permission, and they nodded.

"Go on," his mother encouraged. "We're almost home anyway."

"We'll meet you there," David added.

Smiling gratefully, he ducked under the handle of their cart and jumped up beside Kaileen. He was a bit worried the entire contraption would collapse under the weight of all the people aboard it, but it held firm. His parents gradually became smaller and smaller as the faster horses pulled away from them. "Why haven't you been trying to talk to me at market day?" he asked, curious and a little frustrated.

"I'm sorry about that," she told him sincerely. "It's just my Ma heard about the scene you made when we met, and decided she had to evaluate you before I was allowed to talk to you again." She made a face. "She and Pa are at home today, though, so I can do what I want," she added defiantly. "One of my older brothers, Pete, is driving the cart." A young man of about twenty turned at the sound of his name and grinned at them.

"So when will I be evaluated?" Liam asked, only half-mockingly.

Kaileen sighed with aggravation. "I don't know. She just said to wait for her to decide before talking to you." She glanced at him sideways. "So, do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"No, actually. My Mum wasn't able to have other children except me."

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

He gave her a small smile. "It's okay. It must be really different for you, having so many siblings."

"It can be pretty hard to get a word in with this lot sometimes." She gestured at the noisy rabble tumbling about behind them. Indeed, they'd had to raise their voices to even hear each other. "Hey, I noticed your family didn't have any horses. Why not?"

Liam blushed. "We can't afford it. Mum and Dad are first generation farmers, and they only paid off the original landowners about a year ago," he explained. "We're saving up now, though. We can almost afford to by a horse-and-cart."

"That's good. You can leave home later when you do, and stay at market longer, because the horses'll get you there quicker. 'Course, you'll only need one, not three like us."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, swaying with the rhythm of the cart as it trundled along the road. After a while, Liam shifted in his seat, recognising the bend as the one just before his farm. "Here's my stop." He grinned at Kaileen.

"Really?" She smiled back. "We're the next farm up the road. Sure, it's still a bit of a distance from here, but it'll make it easier if we want to meet up sometime." She glanced at him hopefully. He nodded.

"I'd like that. I'll see you at the commemoration tomorrow if I see you."

Giggling at his awkward turn of phrase, she waved him goodbye as he hopped down from the cart and made his way down the path to his home.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

"Liam, stop fidgeting! You'll get your cut all crooked," Ava scolded him.

"Sorry, Mum. I just keep getting bits of hair in my eyes." He twisted to look at her imploringly. "Don't cut it too short, please?"

She smiled indulgently. "Of course not. I just need to tidy it up for the commemoration. Now sit straight." After a few more minutes of snipping, she put down the scissors, appraising her handiwork. "There, all done! You can go check your reflection in the water barrel."

"Thank you, Mum." He flashed her a grin and raced out of the room, eager to check that she hadn't shorn off most of his hair. The reflected image in the water rippled as he gripped the barrel's rim, but he could still distinguish the basic form and lines of his face. Inspecting his new haircut, he noticed that the scar from falling out of the tree was a bit more prominent with less hair covering it, and it would take some getting used to having hair not long enough that it curled, but otherwise it was agreeable.

He turned as she walked up behind him, smiling fondly. "Now go get yourself cleaned up and dressed." He nodded, starting to move forward. "And don't forget to put a pair of thin trousers over the top of your black ones. Don't want them getting dusty from the road."

"Of course, Mum."

"Oh and your new cap, too! Don't forget that!" Liam sighed internally. Ava had already gone over this at least five times in as many hours. "This is a very serious occasion, Liam. You have to show respect to the people there. Pull your cap low, and if anyone talks to you, tip your hat to them in farewell and greeting. When the commemoration itself starts-"

"Hold the cap to my chest and bow my head respectfully." He grinned wearily. "I know, Mum. I won't forget."

Smoothing down her hair, she gave him a weary smile of her own. "Oh, I know, sweetheart. I'm just worried about you, and the big crowd that they'll have there..."

"Mum, I'll be fine," he pressed. "Go check up on Dad," he continued, grinning again. "He's probably putting his leg through the wrong side of the trousers or somehow ending up with his boots laced together. Or maybe both."

She gave her hair one last pat and smiled ruefully. "If anyone could manage that, it would be your father. I doubt he'd be able to dress himself in the morning without me." She bustled off to her bedroom, leaving Liam to give himself a quick wash and to get dressed.

The family somehow managed to be ready on time - most of the delay caused by a missing boot on David's part. They set up a steady pace, much faster than they usually did on the road as they had no product-laden cart to take with them. It was a fairly cool day, so the walk was rather pleasant; a number of other families were also heading to the commemoration, both on foot and by horse-and-cart. From above, they would have looked like a file of ants headed for the proverbial breadcrumb.

Liam had been hoping to see Kaileen on the way, but thus far hadn't caught sight of her. All thoughts of being able to meet up with her there were wiped from his mind when he saw Castle Redmont. Far more used to farmhouses, cottages, and maybe the occasional two-storey inn, the stout castle seemed colossal. He wondered how anyone could ever find their way around such a massive structure without getting hopelessly lost. The way it towered over the village at the base of the hill made him feel small and insignificant. Next to him, his father shook his head in wonder. "I've seen that castle at least twenty times now in my lifetime, and I still can't believe how big it is." He gripped his son by the shoulder. "Can you even believe that Castle Araluen is bigger yet?" Liam's mind was subsequently boggled. "I've never been there, of course - too far away. Couldn't leave the farm for that long. But I've heard the stories. The spires are carved from marble and decorated with gold, and the tops get lost in the clouds from their height..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "It seems almost crazy to think every part of that castle is active, every day."

Ava tapped him on the arm, a small smile creeping onto her face. "You can stop fantasising about castles now, dear. How about we get inside that one?" She motioned her head up the hill.

Straightening his tunic, David turned his attention to the direction they were supposed to be headed in. "Yes, of course. Let's go, then." With that, he set off again, wife and son trailing behind him in his wake.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: Oh, almost forgot - I found some MftS chapters that I forgot to post for about seven months... They may have been slightly nibbled at by plot bunnies, but I'm pretty sure you'll still be able to read them if you squint and tilt your head sideways. I'll start posting those tomorrow, and afterwards I'll update this at a hopefully something vaguely resembling a regular update scheme. Until tomorrow,

-pixie.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Going back to Halt for a bit now, because writing him is just so much fun.

...Yeah, if you were going to ask, the whole reason for this commemoration arc _is_ just so I can write Halt again.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

"Are you ready yet, Halt?" Gilan's tentative voice drifted in from the cabin's hallway. Halt inhaled shakily, readjusting his oakleaf so that it was lying flat against his shirt, glistening silver beside the dull fabric.

"Yes, yes, I'm coming." He flipped up the hood of his cowl, hiding the sorrow in his eyes in its shadowy recesses. Opening the door of his small bedroom, he joined Gilan in the hallway, and they both made their way to the front of the cabin.

Once they were on the porch, Gilan placed a comforting hand on Halt's shoulder. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to, Halt. Will only d..." His breath caught. "It only happened a few months ago. People would understand if you don't feel that you can stomach being at the commemorative service."

Halt didn't even turn to acknowledge him. "No, I'm going. I'm the reason he's dead. The least I can do is formally apologise."

Gilan sighed, squeezing Halt's shoulder consolingly. "You know that it wasn't your fault. No one blames you for what happened."

"No one but me." Halt shrugged the younger man's hand from his shoulder and thudded dully down the steps, mounting Abelard without a word. Gilan shook his head sadly and made his usual quiet way down the stairs, not tripping as he always on the way up them. He swung himself into Blaze's saddle, patting her fondly on the neck. Halt led Abelard out onto the path to castle and Gilan followed behind, drawing up beside him when there was enough space. Their entire ride was spent in silence.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

The crowd that had gathered at Will's commemoration was so large that it spilled out of the room. Indeed, part of the reason it had taken so long since his passing for the event to even occur was to give all those attending enough time to travel from their respective fiefs. The castle's guest rooms had been flooded with the nobler end of those attending. Others had hired rooms in nearby taverns – those, too, had filled quickly. Many of the poorer folk had had to set up tents in the courtyard or wherever space was permissible. Will's death had been something of a national tragedy, so naturally everyone wanted a chance to say a final farewell to the young Ranger's apprentice.

At one end of the room, a dais had been erected for the speakers of Will's eulogy. Rows upon rows of pews faced it, most already filled to capacity. Many of those in higher positions who hadn't yet were hastening to find a seat before they were all taken. Others - mostly farming families - would have to make do standing at the sides of the pews and at the far back. Liam and his family had secured themselves a fairly decent spot; standing, of course, but they could still see the dais clearly. By now, he had given up hope of seeing Kaileen. The seething mass of people was far too great to find just one person. It would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

The room was decorated extravagantly for the occasion. Black flowers spilled out of vases, cascading over fluted marble stands and filling the air with a soft fragrance. An enormous floor-to-ceiling curtain hung at the back of the dais, concealing the speakers from the crowd's view. Will's closest friends were gathered there - Halt, Gilan, Crowley, Alyss, Jenny, Horace, Pauline and Arald. All were dressed in sombre shades; the Rangers had formulated a funereal dress that mimicked their usual attire, but in tones fit for mourning. Their cloaks were a uniform dark grey, their trousers were ashen and their shirts the colour of ink. Horace was dressed similarly, minus the cloak. The girls had matching black dresses with square necklines and long sleeves. Alyss wore a widow's veil - she knew it would cause a stir, but she wanted everyone to know just how much she had loved Will. Arald was in all black, a marked difference from his sometimes garishly coloured clothing. A few of the older of those gathered drank some of the wine provided on a nearby table to calm themselves.

Halt peered through a chink in the curtains at the elaborate setup. He clenched his fists at his sides, angry at the entire event.

"What's wrong, Halt?" Lady Pauline asked gently, noticing his tightly wound stance.

"Look at it all!" he fumed. "The place is decorated almost like it's a wedding! The colours are just in reverse." He jabbed a finger at what could be seen of the crowd. "Why are all these people here? None of them knew Will. Most of them would never have even seen him!"

Angrily, he fisted his hands on his head. "This commemoration isn't to preserve Will's memory. It's to put his death on show!" His eyes glistened and his hands dropped limply to his sides. "It just isn't fair."

Pauline reached out a tentative hand to smooth his ruffled hair. "I know, I know," she soothed. "None of us like the idea of having such a public ceremony. But Will was a hero - the people want to remember that. They see an event like this as a way to honour a fallen hero."

Still a little aggravated, Halt pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "I still don't like it."

She cast a quick glance at the event co-ordinator. "Just remember, we'll have a more private commemoration afterwards - those that knew him best. The people on this side of the curtain, minus the co-ordinators and plus a few others." He nodded, but his hands had balled at his sides once again. Hesitantly, she continued. "Halt, if you don't want to, you don't have to s-"

"No." He cut her off forcefully. "I wish everyone would stop acting like I'm too weak to say a few words!" His voice rose, not enough so that those on the other side of the curtain could hear him, but enough that everyone on his side could. They all stared at him, and a few started to make their way over to see if they could help calm him down. "I'm sorry, Pauline," he apologised quickly, grasping her hands in his. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"Is everything alright, Halt?" Crowley asked, concerned. "Listen, if you don't feel you can do this, just say-" He nearly staggered back from the force that Halt glared at him with.

"I'll be fine," he growled, reaching for a glass of wine from the table. Pauline gently removed it from his hand before he snapped the stem in his grip.

"You don't really want to get drunk at Will's commemoration, do you?"

"If they didn't want people getting drunk, they shouldn't have provided alcohol," he muttered, relinquishing his hold on the top of the glass. He rubbed his hand over his face, feeling a bit more haggard than before. All those oscillations between anger and remorse were making him tired.

The co-ordinator cleared his throat apologetically. "Madam, sirs, the commemoration is about to commence. Would you please make your way to the dais?" He gestured to the curtain. "Once you have spoken, you may return back here."

"Of course," Lady Pauline patted Halt on the arm. "You can get through this," she told him firmly. "It's only a few hours."

He nodded stiffly, then turned away from Pauline and dutifully filed out onto the dais.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: As I mentioned last chapter, I'm posting a bunch of chapters for MftS. During that time, updates for this will be fairly infrequent, so I apologise in advance. Also, a heads up for fans of Unwilling Assassin - I (finally) wrote the alternate endings, and will be posting them in between updates on MftS. Thoug you might like to know.

Until then,

-pixie.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: *hides behind desk chair* I know, I'm terrible. I really should have updated this a long time ago. It's school holidays for me for the rest of the week, then I start Year 12 - last year of high school. So, until then, I'll try to write as much as possible in a pitiful attempt to make up for my lack of updating. I'm really sorry about that - I just haven't found the motivation between all the tests I've had at school and now having a job and also trying to get my webcomic off the ground (which I do still need to start). Also, I went back and fixed a few discrepancies - one concerning something Ali Ranger51 mentioned back in, what, February? D: Sorry it took so long to getting around to fixing that.

Anyway, on with the chapter!

.:':. .:':. .:':.

For Halt, most of the ceremony seemed to pass in a blur. He managed to pick out a few snatches of words, words about Will's skill and bravery. Much more than that was beyond him. He was still angry at the entire concept of the commemoration, and the florid prose of the announcers just aggravated him further. Pauline sat next to him, quietly attempting to soothe him, but her success was limited.

Alyss' clear voice broke through the red haze that had descended over Halt's vision. "All of you gathered here today will have no doubt have heard numerous tales of Will's success in the name of our King. You would know of his part in foiling Morgarath's plans to take over Araluen." A shudder ran through the crowd at the mention of the dead warlord. For many, the memory of those frightening days was altogether too fresh. "You would know of his slavery by the Skandians, his subsequent assistance in driving off the Temujai warriors from their land, and then securing a peace treaty with them.

"I remind you of this so that you will understand my full meaning when I say that his achievements are nothing compared to the sort of person that he was." Only her diplomatic training was stopping Alyss from completely breaking down. As it was, tears streamed freely from her eyes and her voice wobbled at the end of every sentence. "He had this way about him… it was impossible not to like him. He was one of the kindest, most considerate people that I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. His death…" She swallowed down a sob. "His death was a national tragedy, as can be seen by the sheer volume of those gathered here to pay their respects. But for those closest to him… This has to be one of the hardest experiences any of us have gone through. He was just so vibrant, so full of life and love and energy, it's almost impossible to believe he's really…" Alyss trailed off, her words swallowed by hiccupping sobs. Pauline left Halt's side to lead the weeping girl from the stage, murmuring quiet sympathies.

With an apologetic glance, Crowley gave Halt a nudge towards the speaker's platform, as he'd been so focused on Alyss and Pauline that he hadn't heard his name announced. Unwillingly, Halt made his way to the podium, his hood still covering his face despite the disapproving glances of the events coordinator. He cleared his throat, all his earlier anger turned to sadness. He could only hope his voice would not crack.

"Many of you will know me as Ranger Halt. Many of you will also know I'm not one for words, but I'll make an exception for Will, as a chance to apologise. He deserves that much." He drew a shaky breath.

"I still remember the first time I saw Will. It was then I first thought that he'd have potential as a Ranger. He was sneaking some pies that Castle Redmont's cook, Master Chubbs, had left to cool." A few in the audience gave watery smiles. "He wasn't even noticed by anyone other than myself for about ten minutes - already impressive for someone without any training." A small, sad half-smile flickered briefly across his lips. "When he was caught, he owned up to having taken the pies, even though he was punished for it. Most in that situation would have tried to talk their way out of it, but Will's nature was a truthful one. It was one of the many things about him that make an old Ranger such as myself be glad for life."

He gazed out over the crowd, his eyes hidden from theirs. "Few will know the exact circumstances of Will's…" His breath caught. "What happened," he continued after a moment. "He was still suffering the after-effects of his time as a slave in Skandia, and with the war that ensued afterwards, had little chance to rest before we returned to Araluen." He stared resolutely ahead, determined that all there should know what had happened, so that they'd be grieving for the right reasons. "Will was always a determined apprentice - he wanted to get back out in the field even when he could barely walk from his ordeals. Finally, though, I deemed him well enough to go out on missions with me once more. He probably was worse off than he made out, but I was just so glad to have him back that I let it slide when I should have insisted he stay back." His grip tightened on the edges of the podium, his knuckles starting to turn white. "We were following a group of bandits, and we were coming up on their encampment when they…" Halt trailed off mid-sentence, staring out across the crowd. He couldn't believe his eyes. Standing alone at the back of the room, a sorrowful expression on his face.

Will.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A scant few seconds after Halt had stopped, Crowley had stood and rushed over to him. "Halt, what in Araluen are you _doing_?" he asked in undertone, sensing that the other Ranger's pause was not due to grief.

"I saw him. I saw Will." Gripping Crowley by the shoulders, he flicked his eyes to the back of the hall. "Can't you see him too?" Crowley followed his gaze, but saw only farming families. No Will. Though, of course, he hadn't really been expecting to. The crowd started to murmur in confusion. What was going on?

"...He's not there, Halt," the Corps Commandant replied hesitantly.

Halt looked out at the crowd again, but this time he couldn't find Will. Tears slid, unbidden, down his cheeks.

Crowley glanced at Pauline, who had just then returned to the platform, and silently implored her to take over. She nodded imperceptibly, making her way to the rostrum as he led Halt from the dais and behind the curtain. Her words were muffled by the noise of the crowd and the thick material of the curtain, but it was evident she was working her diplomatic magic as the people slowly quieted. He turned his attention back to Halt, who had been growing increasingly agitated.

"I'm telling you, Crowley! It was him! I saw him standing there!"

"Halt," he said soothingly, "it's Will's commemoration. It might even be considered normal that you thought you-"

"Don't talk to me like that! I didn't imagine him, Crowley!" he hissed. "I saw him. He was right there."

"Halt," he said firmly, trying not to lose his patience. "I looked at the audience. I couldn't see him."

"Then you weren't looking hard enough."

Crowley shook his head sadly. "No. I think you're looking _too_ hard.

"I know you blame yourself for what happened. Hell, if I was in your position, I would probably have blamed myself too. Will was a good kid." He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. "You kept telling us that you were fine, that you'd be able to make it through the commemoration. But imagining that you've seen Will, just freezing up like that... You're not okay, Halt." He drew himself up. "Go home to your cabin and rest, now. Pauline and I will make your excuses."

"No! I have to-"

"I'm not asking you as a friend, Halt," he warned.

"I just-"

"That's an order!" Crowley snapped, grief causing him to lose his patience.

Halt glowered at him. "As you command, _sir_." Without a sound, he turned, cloak billowing behind him, and left Crowley standing alone with a troubled expression on his face.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: Haha, I made Halt go crazy and start seeing things. I'm so mean to characters.

Also, terrible eulogies are terrible. I'm not used to writing that sort of stuff (which, really, I should count as a blessing). Nevertheless, I apologise for the awkward badness of the eulogies. I guess I'm just a little rusty, not having written much in the way of creative writing in the past three months or so. Next chapter should be up soon!

-pixie.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Well, I guess I'm a lot more critical of my work than others are – despite my feelings that the eulogies could have been much better, I got some pretty positive feedback about them. Also, I'm touched by how many people are crying because of this story. You guys have no idea how much it means to me that my writing can invoke such an emotional response. It's a major part of the reason that I keep posting new stories and chapters, so thank you all.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Pauline did her best to settle Alyss down, sending her off with one of the servants to her quarters so that she could rest. She made her way back to area behind the curtain, and then onto the dais. Something was wrong - Halt was whispering fervently to Crowley, gripping his shoulders with clenched hands, eyes darting wildly to the back of the hall.

He looked like he was going crazy.

When Crowley looked to her helplessly, she gave him the slightest of nods and gracefully glided over to the podium. The Corps Commandant gave her a fleeting, grateful glance and led Halt from dais, his cloak still clutched in the stricken Ranger's hands. Pauline soothed the crowd and allayed their confusion, telling them the Ranger had been overcome with grief. She felt an odd twinge saying that, knowing that at any other time Halt would have been annoyed that she was humanising him to the masses. Great figures of legend didn't break down like that. She sighed internally, knowing she'd had no choice. It did the trick - the crowd calmed, and Pauline was able to step down from the rostrum.

A moment later, she made her way behind the curtain.

"What happened to him out there, Crowley?" she asked softly.

He sighed, rubbing at his face. "He thought he saw Will in the audience."

"But... that's impossible! He must have imagined it." Her face softened. "Oh, poor Halt."

Crowley nodded glumly. "I ordered him to go home and rest - though I'm not entirely sure he'll do either."

"He definitely won't rest." Pauline paused. "I think I should see if I can't get him to calm himself."

"I don't advise trying. He'll be fairly unreasonable. He stormed out on me when I told him to go back to his cabin."

"He respects me."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Are you implying he doesn't respect me?" He only seemed to be partially joking.

"Of course I'm not. I just think this situation needs a more delicate approach." She turned away, heading towards the exit. "Goodbye, Crowley," she called over her shoulder, stopping in the doorway. "I'll let you know as soon as possible if I calmed him down."

.:':. .:':. .:':.

The vase exploded into tinkling shards as Halt flung it against the wooden wall of the cabin, scarring it with scratches from the broken pieces of pottery. A dark stain of water dripped down the wall, torn and bruised flowers drifting to the ground before it. He then spun around and kicked out at one of the chairs, sending it flying. It crashed into the table quite resoundingly, one of its legs splintering upon impact. Turning again, he swept the pots and pans from their shelf, and they crashed to the floor with a resonating clang. He looked around wildly for something else he could break. He didn't really know where this uncharacteristic rage had come from, but he had little control over it.

Striding over to the cupboards in a few swift, angry steps, he tore one of the doors from its hinges and tossed it across the room. It clattered noisily into the hallway, knocking over Will's mandola with a twang. Will had only had the instrument for a short while, and had been teaching himself to play it to pass the time during his recovery. For some reason, Halt found the sight of it indescribably sad, only then noticing the tears that had been flowing down his cheeks. He closed his eyes for a moment, filled with sorrow, but the rage rose up once more and took over. He seized another vase and pitched it at the door, just as Pauline went to open it. The hinges screeched in protest as she quickly pulled the door closed again to avoid being hit by ricocheting shards of pottery. Tentatively, she opened the door just enough so that she could peer around its edge. "Halt? Is it alright if I come in?"

Chest still heaving, Halt struggled to calm himself down. "Pauline?"

"Yes, it's me. Am I allowed in?"

"Of course, I'm sorry. Come in, then," he replied gruffly, furiously scrubbing at his cheeks. Pauline gently pushed the door open further, the shattered pottery pieces and flowers lying at its base swept aside in its wake. She stepped carefully around the broken ceramic, wryly noting the two puddles of water soaking into the floorboards, the spread of what had been two lovely vases of flowers, the gaping hole where the cupboard door had been and the splintered chair lying on its side. And, last of all, Halt standing amidst the wreckage of his kitchen, now looking absolutely miserable.

"Halt, what happened?" She gestured to the destruction around them. "This isn't like you."

"I don't know, I-I just… I'm… Do you want coffee? Of course, I'll make some coffee," he babbled, turning to the stove. That, at least, had escaped his rampage.

He pulled the bag of coffee out of his cupboard and set about to prepare the hot beverage. He scooped out the necessary amounts and much to his own shock and chagrin, most of it landed on the stove. It was only then that he realised how badly his hands were shaking. Pauline moved from where she had been sitting on one of the undamaged chairs, and laid a small, smooth hand over Halt's larger, calloused ones. "Halt, why don't you let me make the coffee instead? It's been a hard day for you. Go and sit down, rest for a while." She smiled softly at him and he obediently sat at the table, clenching his hands together to stop their trembling.

A few minutes later, Pauline had prepared two steaming mugs of the thick, dark brew: one extra strong for Halt, the other significantly weaker for herself. Halt accepted his gratefully, closing his eyes as he inhaled the scent of the rich brew. Pauline slid into the chair beside him - now the only other one available, due to Halt's damages on the guest chair - cradling her own demitasse. They both blew on their drinks to cool them, steam wafting over the rim. Halt started drinking his before Pauline, used as he was to drinking coffee when it was still piping hot. "It's good, Pauline. Thank you," he told her after having already drained more than half the cup. Pauline raised an eyebrow at him over the rim of her own near-full mug. The barest of smiles tugged the corners of Halt's mouth at the age-old Ranger idiosyncrasy, but it faded just as quickly. He swallowed the last of his coffee and stared morosely at the dregs.

"I wish everyone would stop telling me it wasn't my fault." The words tumbled out of his mouth without warning, surprising them both. He gripped his mug in both hands, still staring at the sticky brown residue at its bottom. "They all say I'm being too hard on myself, that I couldn't have possibly known. They think they're comforting me, but they're making me feel worse."

"I don't think it was your fault," Pauline told him quietly. He shot her a look, but she held up her hands peaceably, setting her mug on the table. "I wasn't there, so I can't assess this objectively. But, I know the kind of person you are, that you would have done just about anything to keep Will out of danger if you had known. Remember, your profession - and mine, in fact - comes with the risk of death attached. Will knew that, and chose it anyway. I understand why you blame yourself. God forbid, if something similar ever happened with Alyss, I would almost definitely blame myself." She placed her hand on his once more. "I'm not telling you that it wasn't your fault," she continued. "I'm telling you that I don't think it was."

Halt finally looked up at her, tears glistening in his eyes. "I understand. I don't agree." Pauline sighed and retracted her hand, Halt curling his fingers back around his mug.

"It just isn't fair, Pauline," he said brokenly after a few moments of silence, his head bowed. "How is it even possible for someone so full of life and energy to just die like that? What kind of cruel god could bring themselves to snuff that out? Killed whilst captured and tossed in a ditch. How did he deserve something like that?" He raised his desolate eyes to meet Pauline's sympathetic gaze. "Why do we care about other people in our lives when it hurts so much to lose them?"

"It would be a lonely, grey world if no one cared about anyone else. All the joy and vibrancy of life would fade and be meaningless if there was no one to share it with." She leaned forward across the table. "I'm not asking you to stop blaming yourself altogether. Just… not as much as you are now. Okay?"

Nodding, he surreptitiously rubbed his face dry with his sleeve, suddenly ashamed at the tears. He hadn't been crying for Will; he'd been crying for himself. Having realised that, and putting himself above it, he felt some of his load of grief unravel and lighten. Pauline rose gracefully to her feet, as always. On impulse, Halt got out of his own chair - just as quietly, if not with quite as much poise - and swept her into a hug. She froze for a moment at this uncharacteristic display of affection, then returned the embrace.

"Thank you, Pauline," he said sincerely. "You've always had a way with words. I don't know anyone else that could've made me see reason."

"They're only words," she murmured, still slightly flustered. "Everyone uses them."

Halt held her out at arm's length, lips quirked slightly on one side. "It's the way you use them that matters." He gazed into her eyes for a few seconds, then dropped his hands from her shoulders. "Thank you for talking some sense into me. I'm a long way from forgiving myself - I made too many genuine mistakes on that mission for me ever to be fully rid of this self-blame - but I think I'll at least be able to cope with it now."

"I have to report back to the castle; Crowley will want to know you haven't gone off on some murderous rampage."

He glanced around the room and mustered a smile. "I think most of my kitchen disagrees with that."

With a small smile in his direction, Pauline left the cabin. Only once her back was turned did she allow her own sorrow to become visible. She knew she would not have completely fooled Halt, but she had felt it important to be strong for him when he'd needed it. She knew he'd have done the same, were their positions reversed.

The door slowly creaked shut on her retreating figure. Halt stared at it for several moments more before setting about to straightening the kitchen. As he worked, the cloud of grief still shadowed his features, but not quite so darkly as it had before.

He would only get better with time.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: Gah, this chapter just kept on going! It was initially meant to be part of the previous chapter, but I ended up splitting it because of length. I just couldn't find a good place to end it. In fact, I'm not totally satisfied with the way it does end. It just feels a little.. off to me. Or something. I don't know. Anyway, tell me what you think! I always love to hear your feedback.

Oh, one other thing: it's my dad's girlfriend's son's birthday tomorrow, so we're going out for dinner. This means I probably won't post a chapter tomorrow, because I post from my dad's laptop when he gets back from work due to FanFiction being blocked on my craptop. There should be a new chapter up the day after, though. Until then,

-pixie.


	16. Chapter 16

"How is he?" Crowley asked anxiously, worried about his old friend. Pauline had returned to the castle, and was once again behind the curtain. The others who had spoken about Will had gathered there with her - even Alyss, having removed the widow's veil by now, had composed herself enough to join them.

"Better now, I believe." Pauline sighed. "He's so full of anguish, though - he still thinks it was his fault. I did at least manage to convince him that he shouldn't be accusing himself as much as he was."

"Well, we all know how close he was to Will," Alyss replied, only the slightest of tremors in her voice.

Crowley nodded grimly. "He's seen many a good man fall in battle - so have I - but none that he had such a connection with. Definitely not one so young."

"The anger that he's been displaying because of it all… it's so unlike him." Pauline hugged her arms to herself.

"What do you mean?" The question came from Baron Arald.

"You heard him before the commemoration, how upset he was about the whole setup. He saw it as putting Will's death on show. Then, when he froze up on stage…" she trailed off.

"What did actually happen, then?" Alyss asked hesitantly.

Crowley answered her. "He thought he saw Will in the audience." A single tear slid down her cheek as the Corps Commandant continued. "I tried to calm him down, but he just got madder and madder. Then he stormed out on me. Pauline went to try and soothe him after that."

The Head of Castle Redmont's Diplomatic Service re-joined the conversation. "When I got there, he was throwing things around and just generally wrecking his kitchen. He'd torn off one of the cupboard doors, ruined a chair, thrown his pots and pans to the floor, smashed two vases - one of which nearly hit me. If I'd opened the door just a second earlier…" She shuddered. "He tried to make me coffee, but his hands were shaking so badly he completely missed the pot. I bade him sit down and let me make it… I sat with him, and he just poured his heart out. I don't think he'll ever stop blaming himself for what happened. He is better now, however."

"Do you think he's up to our private commemoration for Will?" Crowley asked her.

She smiled faintly. "I'm certain he will be fine. His main aggravation with the public ceremony was with all the lavish decorations and the massive crowd. Besides, the formalities of it have weighed on us all. We will be sharing stories of our experiences with him, especially the funny ones. We could all use some laughter and light-heartedness at a time like this."

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Howls of laughter rang through Halt's little cabin, crowded with those who had known Will the best. The broken chair had been cut up for firewood, the pots and pans put back in place, the shattered vases swept away and the cupboard door reattached. A few straight-cut pieces tree trunk from Halt's firewood stock and a tall chest served as impromptu seats around the table. Halt, Gilan, Crowley, Lady Pauline, Alyss, Horace, Jenny, George, Baron Arald, Sir Rodney, even Old Bob, the Ranger horse trainer, were crammed around the table, sharing stories of their times with Will. Baron Arald had generously provided a few large barrels of ale and wine, and the mood was now quite jovial.

Halt had surprised them all with his openness to share tales of Will's apprenticeship. Under the warm glow of intoxication, he was arguably the most vocal of them all. Sir Rodney was most impressed with Halt's ability to hold his liquor, never having expected a man of such small stature to be a good drinker.

"Oh, the look on his face - he was terrified," Halt chuckled into his mug.

"Why hadn't any of you told him earlier?" Alyss asked disbelievingly, leaning across the table, two spots of colour high on her cheeks. All the younger ones present had been allowed a small amount of the alcoholic beverages available, and it had done wonders for them to help forget their grief over the fate that had befallen their friend.

Gilan shook his head, grinning. "It was much funnier that way. I think just about the whole Corps knew about it before he did." Laughter rang out in a renewed burst.

A smile danced on Halt's lips. "Crowley and I were just standing there, staring down at him while he tried to explain. He was stammering and tripping over his words something terrible. I almost felt bad enough for him to give up the game, I was sure he would notice." He shook his head. "Though Crowley, I swear, if you weren't such a good Commandant, I'd recommend you join a theatre group. Even I got worried you were actually serious about it for a few moments." Crowley shrugged modestly. "Oh, and when we did eventually tell him, that was even better. He was so dumbfounded that he didn't talk for almost a minute. He would just open and close his mouth like a fish. You could almost see his thought process played out on his face." He grinned at Crowley. "Of course, it's one of the things we do to all new apprentices, to help them feel more comfortable with others in the Corps. We tell stories of the bigger pranks we've pulled on each other, and if the apprentice is worth anything as a Ranger, they'll get over any embarrassment and enjoy themselves."

"To be fair, though," Gilan added laughingly, "Will's reaction was probably one of the funniest I've ever seen. He was just so ready to please; he must've felt the whole Corps thought he was an idiot."

Halt raised an eyebrow at him over the rim of his mug. "Oh? I seem to remember when you were first apprenticed to me, the prank we pulled on you was the cause of much hilarity."

"What did you do?" Jenny asked, wide-eyed.

Gilan, who had just raised his drink to his lips, waved his arms emphatically in a negative gesture, endeavouring to swallow his ale as quickly as possible. "No no, that is one story I do _not _want repeated, if you please." He put his cup down on the table and grasped Jenny by the arms, drawing her close and inciting a blush from the cook's apprentice. "There are children present, Halt! Think of the children!"

Crowley grinned at his old friend. "Well, if there are children at stake, Halt, I think we should best leave it alone."

The grizzled Ranger rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I don't know. They're almost adults in their own rights anyway. I think it might just be worth it."

"Halt, don't," Gilan implored.

"Fine!" Halt huffed dramatically. "You young people take the fun out of everything!"

Gilan glanced at him mockingly. "So sorry to disappoint."

"You better be, or I'll have Crowley dock you pay."

"Crowley!" he gasped, aghast. "You wouldn't really do that, would you?" His eyes were wide as saucers and completely guileless.

"I don't really want to get involved, but I have to admit I'd rather face your wrath than Halt's wrath."

Gilan looked affronted. "Are you saying I don't have wrath? I have plenty of wrath!"

"None that I've ever seen," Crowley quipped.

The younger Ranger slammed his fist on the table angrily, but wasn't completely able to hid a smile. "Let's take this outside, I'll _show_ you just how much wrath I have."

"Hmm, no. I think I'll just be setting myself up for disappointment."

Pauline glanced sideways at Halt. A small smile lingered on his lips as he watched the cheery banter between the two other Rangers. _He needed this, _she thought. _We all did._

Another hour passed in a similar manner, with light-hearted mockery and the exchange of stories. Eventually, there was a lull in conversation, and an awkward silence fell. Gilan, not typically one for quiet when his work did not dictate otherwise, rose to his feet, slightly unsteadily, and raised his mug. "A toast to Will!" he called. "The brightest spark of a Ranger's apprentice that I ever met." He glanced to his left, where Jenny had huddled close to his side the entire night.

She nodded and raised her own cup. "Will and I were in the Ward together before I started learning to cook with Master Chubb and he became Ranger Halt's apprentice. I can't say I was as close to him as Alyss was, growing up together from when they were babies as they did. I remember when he and Horace used to fight all the time." The Battleschool apprentice reddened sheepishly. "Horace would almost always win the physical side of things, but Will was quick as anything when it came to words. And it weren't just with getting the last word in with Horace - he was good with comforting words, too. If me or Alyss were feeling down, and the other wasn't available, the first of the boys we would go to was Will. He was always considerate of the feelings of others, and would never let someone be sad if he could help it." She realised she'd been talking for some time, and blushed, taking her seat beside Gilan once more.

Alyss stood elegantly, lifting her glass. "Will was the kindest, most sweet and compassionate person I've ever met. He cared about others, saw the beauty of nature and he was always ready with a smile and a comforting shoulder to lean on. What can a girl do but fall in love with that?" She choked up a little at the end of her sentence, and sat back down.

Next, Horace stood. "Will and I never saw eye to eye until a few years back, when he saved my life at the boar hunt. Since then, I've been ashamed at the way I bullied him. Most people would never forgive that, but Will offered me a friendship the I tried every day to prove worthy to. To the greatest friend an idiot Battleschool apprentice could ever hope for."

Old Bob lifted himself creakily from his seat. "That boy had one of the gentlest hands with a horse that I've ever seen. He was a natural horse rider, and if he hadn't become a Ranger's apprentice, I would have gladly have apprenticed him myself."

They continued around the table, each person adding their thoughts on Will. Praise of his gentle nature, his perseverance and consideration of others was often called upon. Finally, it was Halt's turn. He had, by now, sobered considerably, and his earlier ease with words was gone. Pauline rubbed his arm encouragingly, and he gripped his mug with his free hand. "To Will." he said finally, calling to mind the crude epitaph he had etched on Will's tombstone. "Loyal friend. Dedicated Ranger. The greatest of us all."

Everyone solemnly raised their drinks. "To Will."

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: Okay, this was just a lot of fun to write. I couldn't really think of anything funny enough that had happened with Will – or with Gilan – upon their introduction to the Ranger Corps, so I had the story enter in the middle of the conversation and left it ambiguous. I think it still works, though. Maybe even better than if I had been able to come up with something decent. This way, you can let your imagination fill in the blanks. After all, reading is supposed to expand your mind and help you think for yourself, right? Right?

Ahem. Anyway. For those of you who have watched Firefly, yes, I did loosely base the private commemoration of Will on the bit of episode 12 - The Message where Zoe and Mal are remembering funny stuff that happened with Tracey during the war. Seriously, I love that show. Fox screwed up big time by cancelling it.

Also, I'm a sucker for Jenny/Gilan, because they're just adorable, but I'm terrible at writing an exclusively romantic story, so I just wanted to take the opportunity to slip some of that in.

_Also_, this is now officially my longest story (word wise)! It wasn't last chapter by 62 words. Anyway, party time! *hands out party hats, sparklers nad cake*

-pixie.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Sorry I didn't update for almost a week - the internet modem conked out at mum's and it's been off all week. It was hell. At dad's now, that's why I can post this chapter. Although, with schoolwork sure to increase as we actually get into year 12 (still running on year 11 timetables because everything's been poorly organised), I have a feeling that a once-per-week update schedule will probably be the norm from now.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

"Son, would you go cut some firewood?" David appraised the diminished pile of logs stacked at the side of the cottage. "We've got a couple days' worth left, if that."

Liam nodded. "Sure thing, dad." He made his way to the small barn nestled to the north-east of the house to retrieve the axe and wood sledge. Strapping the axe to the sledge, Liam picked up the sled's rope handle and followed the woodcutter's trail left through to forest for the numerous trips taken to gather their firewood supplies. Each time they'd have to venture out a little further to prevent thinning the trees too much in any one area. It was a good half-hour trek to reach the end of the trail. Eventually, the trees would grow back enough that they would be able to harvest their wood at the beginning of the trail once more, but that was still a few years away.

Selecting his first tree, a sturdy young sapling a bit thicker than one of his legs, Liam unstrapped the axe from the sled and started to lop the tree down. Initially, David had always accompanied him on this task, but more and more recently, he was trusting Liam to manage on his own.

The small tree groaned as Liam struck the final blow, and it fell back into the arms of its brothers. Liam rested the axe down on the sled and pulled the limbs of his tree out of the tangled hold of the foliage, laying it flat on the ground. He set about to stripping the smaller, leafy twigs from the boughs from the tree, throwing them into the underbrush. Once this was done, he cut off the branches with the axe so they could easily be lined up on the sledge. He then chopped the trunk of the tree into lengths roughly equal in length to the sleigh and heaved all the wood onto said sled, lashing it in place with the rope he had brought along for the purpose.

He set off through the trees, pulling the sled behind him. It was slower going now, in part due to the load of wood on the sled, but also because he was no longer following the woodcutter's path - he was extending it. The width of the wood-sleigh meant his path was limited to where there was already a naturally wider path. Sometimes, he would cut down the smaller trees and add them to his growing stack of wood, simultaneously widening the path for future use. The larger trees were beyond his strength, though - his father would cut those down the next time he went out.

It was a balmy day, and Liam began to sweat fairly heavily. His shirt clung to him, soaked in perspiration, and after a while he removed it, bundling it under the sledge where the rope looped around. He rolled up the cuffs of his pants to his knees and pushed down his long woollen socks, allowing the light breeze to cool his shins. After he had felled another tree and piled the wood in with all the rest, he set down the axe next to the sled, grabbed his shirt and easily wove his way through the trees.

David had often told him to keep the path adjacent to the river that ran through the forest, and this was where he was headed now. In less than a minute, he reached the riverbank. He wriggled his feet out of his soft leather shoes, and then stripped off his socks and pants so that he was standing only in his undergarments. He picked up his shirt and gently shook it out in the water, letting the sweat and dirt wash out of its weave. After he was satisfied, he pulled it out of the river, wrung it, and hung it on a nearby bush to dry. Then, he stepped out into the lazy current, curling his toes against the smooth river pebbles as the deliciously cold water swirled around his ankles.

He waded further out until he was waist deep in the middle of the river. There, he ducked his whole body beneath the surface, his eyes flying open involuntarily at the shock of the water's chill temperature. For a while, he floated on his back, letting his hot skin cool in the caress of the river flow. After he felt sufficiently relaxed and reinvigorated, he touched his feet to the river's stone bottom and sloshed back to the riverbank where he had left his clothes. He shook most of the water from his body and towelled the rest off with his shirt. Glancing at the fractured sunlight that crept through the foliage, he bit his lip as he realised he'd spent far more time in the river than he had intended. His father would be wondering where he was.

Pulling on his pants with one hand, he reached for his socks and shoes with the other, and was soon ducking through the trees en route to the wood-sleigh, his shirt slung over his shoulders.

He'd only been walking for a few seconds when he unexpectedly ran into Kaileen. Suddenly, he became very aware that his chest was completely bare, and he stammered out a greeting as he hastily tried to shove his head through one of the sleeves, becoming increasingly flustered as he finally put everything in the right hole. "Um, Kaileen! How... I wasn't expecting… I was cutting wood, and it's such a warm day… I was at the river… It's good to see you." His babbling came to an awkward stop.

She smiled at him kindly. "Hello, Liam."

Liam blushed profusely, straightening the hem of his shirt. "Hi."

"How have you been?" she asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"Quite good, actually," he replied as he started heading back towards the wood-sleigh. Kaileen fell in step beside him. "My dad's giving me more freedom around the farm as I re-learn everything. Most things, he can trust me to do by myself now. Like today, I'm out cutting out firewood. How about you?"

"Not too bad." She flashed him a grin, twirling the end of her black plait around her finger. "With so many siblings, so many extra hands to help around the farm, work gets done fairly quickly. My Ma and Pa let us have the afternoon off to do as we pleased. I decided I'd have a traipse through the woods." She looked at him from under her lashes as they stopped next to the sled. "I was actually hoping to run into you."

Not understanding her intentions at all, he told her, "That must have been quite a hike! I mean, it's lucky that you found me at all, this being such a big forest." She was thrown off for a few seconds, but quickly regathered her composure.

"You know," she said, hooding her eyelids, "I don't think I ever really thanked you properly for defending me against those bullies on the day we met."

"Well, that's not true," Liam replied, still more than a little oblivious. "You said 'thank you' twice when I-" she cut him off by kissing him on the lips. At first a little shocked, Liam soon started to return the action, gently pushing her up against the sled.

Her lips were amazing - soft and warm and tasting of honey. Liam was quite sure he wouldn't mind just kissing her forever.

"Aren't you done with that firewood yet? I've- oh. Atta boy, Liam!"

Liam broke away from Kaileen in surprise, eyes wide. "Dad!"

His father grinned. "Hi, son. Hello... Kaileen, wasn't it?" Kaileen nodded mutely as he reached out his hand. She could see no other course of action, so she shook it. "Well, nice to meet you again. I'll just take this firewood back, seeing as the lazy sack of bones you were just kissing has other things to do." His eyes twinkled with amusement, but then he fixed them both with a hard gaze and a pointed finger. "You two won't run off and elope as soon as I'm gone, will you?"

"What? Dad, no!" Liam implored, both he and Kaileen turning bright crimson.

David pretended not to notice their embarrassment. "Good. If you did, and your mother found out, she would roast me over a spit and serve me up for dinner! And you know I have a particular aversion to being eaten." Whistling innocently, he gathered up the rope handle of the sled and headed back through the trees.

Cheeks still burning, Liam sheepishly met Kaileen's eyes. "I'm really sorry about that."

"Well, your father sure is... interesting."

His blush deepened even more, if possible. "He's not usually like that. I'm sorry."

She smiled. "You can stop apologising. It's not your fault." Stepping closer once more, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "I should be heading back home." She looked at him from under her eyelashes again. "I'll see you soon?"

Nodding eagerly, he replied, "Of course. See you soon."

With one last grin in his direction, she gathered herself up and wove off through the trees. Liam stared after her, a dopey smile on his lips, long after the forest had hidden her from view.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: ARGH! The fluffliness! I'm choking to death on it! *convulses on the floor* Say what will about me being good at (and enjoying) writing sad stuff, I have a compulsive need to put some fluff in wherever I can. I showed remarkable restraint with Unwilling Assassin until right up until the end, where it was pretty much necessary anyway. I guess this is my brain's revenge, or something? I have no idea. I barely make sense to myself sometimes. I really don't know how my family and friends put up with my oddities.

-pixie.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: As promised, here is the once-weekly update for this week. These updates will usually be either Saturday or Sunday, around 7-10 pm Australian Eastern Standard Time (UTC +11 currently, with daylight savings). That will be about 12-3 am by the clock FF keeps (I think). So look forward to those times for updates! Anyway, on with the chapter!

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Over the following months, Kaileen and Liam would often meet in the woods. They would talk about their families, their interests, and, of course, they would kiss. Liam's whittling skills steadily increased, and he now made small trinkets that his family sold on market days. One day, during one of their forest meetings, Liam presented Kaileen with a carved wooden bracelet he had spent several weeks painstakingly fashioning into the shape of a garland of flowers for her birthday. She had gasped in pleasure as he slipped it over her wrist.

"It's beautiful, Liam. Thank you!" she had exclaimed, then added, a little regretfully, "I just wish I could wear it at home. My Ma still hasn't decided whether or not she approves of you or not. I know she loves me and she's just worried I'll make the wrong decisions, but I'm seventeen now! I'm as good as a woman," she'd continued stubbornly. "I just wish she wasn't so strict all the time."

As it turned out, her mother had made up her mind. The very next market day, she had shepherded Kaileen and Liam together to talk to them. "Now I know you've been sneaking off into the forest of an afternoon to meet with this boy," she told them sternly, looking pointedly at her daughter. Kaileen opened her mouth to protest, but her mother cut her off. "Don't you dare try and make excuses, Kaileen, I know that's exactly what you were doing. And don't think I haven't seen the bracelet, either. Your dresser isn't exactly the best hiding place." Suitably chastened, Kaileen sealed her lips once more.

"Now, Liam," she continued, taking a softer tone as she turned to the brown-haired teen. "I've given it some thought, and I've come to realise that Kaileen's nearly a woman now, and I can't keep mothering her." She sounded quite wistful. "I suppose, her being my only daughter, I tend to keep her close." A small smile tugged the corners of her mouth. "Having her in a house otherwise full of men is just about all that keeps me from going crazy at times." She squared her shoulders. "But I can't stop her from having suitors so that I can keep her to myself. That would be selfish of me. And who knows? Maybe this baby will be a girl, and I'll have some feminine company again in a few years." Her hand dropped unconsciously to her already swelling belly.

"Well," Liam began carefully, "For Kaileen, it's still just under a year until she's even of marrying age. I have another year and a half. Nothing needs to be decided until then."

Kaileen's mother nodded wearily. "I know, I know." She sighed. "Seeing as you've already been meeting with her anyway, I suppose I'll have to approve of you."

"Really? Thank you, Ma!" Kaileen threw herself into her mother's arms, hugging her tight. Smiling softly, she stroked her daughter's black hair, mirror to her own. Once the embrace was over, she held Kaileen out at arm's length. "Now you two get back to what you're supposed to be doing."

They nodded, Liam heading back to his family's stall to help his father hawk goods, Kaileen to chase down her younger brothers to make sure they weren't causing havoc among the stalls.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Some months had passed since Will's commemoration, and Halt was coping as well as he could. He turned more and more often to Pauline for companionship and support, causing a small scandal when a laundry servant had seen him enter Pauline's room at a late hour, not knowing the Ranger just wanted to talk to her. To most others, he was as grim and taciturn as ever - if not more so. After one particular talk with Lady Pauline, Halt was in far higher spirits than as of late. He'd even allowed a small smile to grace his lips.

But that all came crashing down when he saw Will.

He had just turned the corner at the end of the hallway Halt was walking down. Immediately, the Ranger chased after him in a dead run. For the past few months, he'd attributed his sighting of Will at the commemoration to just be a product of the immense anger, stress, and grief he'd been feeling at the time. That had all been wiped out in an instant at the sight of his apprentice.

Halt rounded the corner and nearly collided with him, as the boy had stooped over to retie the laces on one of his boots. The grizzled Ranger was about to sweep him into a fierce embrace when he realised it wasn't Will, just a serving boy with curly brown hair that was staring at him with a mix of fear, trepidation and awe. Waves of confusion washed over Halt as he slowly backed away from the child and turned back up the corridor. He'd been _sure_ that it was Will up until he had seen it was a serving boy. He gripped his hair in frustration and more than a little alarm. What was wrong with him? He'd seen the grave that Ava and her husband had dug, still had Will's bronze oakleaf pendant coiled in his breast pocket. He knew Will would never have parted with the oakleaf if he'd been alive.

Resolutely, he made his way back to Pauline's door and knocked twice. He regretted that the pleasant atmosphere of the talk they'd finished only a few moments before would be quite thoroughly spoiled, but he could see no alternative.

The door slid open and Pauline appeared in the doorway. Silently, she took in his anxious stance and the glint of panic in Halt's eyes and ushered him inside, closing the door with a soft click. "Halt, what's wrong?" She hadn't yet cleared away the coffee pot, so she refilled the mug he had left sitting on the table. The coffee was lukewarm by now, but Halt accepted it gratefully nonetheless, draining the mug and setting it down once more.

"I saw Will again," he whispered softly.

"Oh, Halt," she sighed, taking his hands in her own and drawing him to sit down on her small lounge.

"I know it wasn't really him this time, though. I saw him in the hall, just fleetingly, turning the corner. But when I caught up to him, it was just a servant." He stared intently at the patterns on the cushion that he sat on. "What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you, Halt," she told him gently. "Everyone deals with grief in a different way."

"But I thought I was getting better," Halt replied, pained. "I'd put it down to the stress of the situation for me seeing Will at the ceremony. That doesn't explain me seeing him when it's just a serving boy in the hall. I wasn't stressed then. In fact, I was probably the happiest I've been since… what happened." Even now, he had trouble directly acknowledging that Will was dead.

Pauline patted his arm soothingly. "People recover at different rates, and in different ways. There are bound to be relapses of emotion. That's what this is, I believe. Also..." She trailed off for a moment, then continued carefully. "I know you blame yourself for what happened. There isn't really a way to change that, it's just part of your reaction. The other part… Halt, I believe that somewhere, deep down, you're holding onto the hope that Will's somehow alive. That would explain why you've started seeing Will when he isn't there, why you find it so hard to say outright that he's gone. It's your mind's way of dealing with the situation. There's nothing wrong with that," she persisted. "In fact, if you didn't have that, I'd be worried that you might start going a little…"

"Crazy?" he substituted, letting out a humourless bark of laughter. "I think seeing Will when it's just a servant with similar hair is already crossing the line there, Pauline."

She shook her head, grey-blonde hair swinging. "You're not listening. Seeing Will like this is just an accumulation of your grief. I can deal with that. But I don't think I could handle you losing your sanity. I know it's selfish, but please, stay strong for me." She glanced at him under her eyelashes, completely dropping her professional calm - a rare occurrence. "I can't…"

Halt moved a little bit closer to her. "Pauline, you know I'd never do anything to harm you. If you need me to be strong, I will be. Just don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

The smile that she gave him was small, but genuine. She's known that if Halt had some exterior focus point, he wouldn't lose himself so much in grief and self-recriminations. Nothing she'd told him had been a lie; it was merely the way she had phrased things that allowed him to pick this up as a distraction. _Well, he said it himself_, she thought wryly. _I do have a way with words_.

"Pauline?" he was asking now.

"Yes, Halt?"

"Can…Can I stay here for the night? I don't think I can be in the cabin right now. So much there is a reminder of him."

"Of course. I'll take out some blankets and sleep on the lounge. You can take my bed."

He was already shaking his head. "No, I've been trained to sleep on the roughest of terrains. I'm sure I can handle a sofa. I won't kick you out of your own bed."

She raised an eyebrow at him. Halt found the age-old Ranger idiom strangely comforting. "Do you forget that I have had training of my own?"

"Yes, of course," he replied, slightly exasperated, "But this is your home, and you're a lady."

"I'm glad you've noticed. Your powers of observation are as keen as ever, I see."

Incensed, he continued. "Why are you being so stubborn? I'd rather that you slept comfortably than me."

"Why Halt, I thought your attitude towards chivalry was flippant at best. If you're being a gentleman, I may die of shock," she mocked him lightly.

"I am not flippant in my attitude towards chivalry," he protested. "I'll admit, some of the rules are ridiculous, but those knights have most of the right ideas." Pauline stood and pulled a spare blanket out of her linen cupboard. Halt childishly snatched it from her and spread himself out on the lounge, blanket on top, so that there was no room for her anymore. "You're sleeping in your bed. I will not let you sleep on this couch," he told her defiantly, but she said nothing, arms folded.

His defiance slowly melted and instead he looked at her pleadingly. "Please just take the bed."

She smiled at him gently to show she had only been teasing. It had been a ploy to distract him from his melancholy thoughts, and it had worked. "You're a good man, Halt. You can be as grim as you like, that's always going to show through." And, acting on impulse, she kissed him lightly on the lips, a smile still curving their ends. "Goodnight, Halt," she murmured and made her graceful way to her room.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: Gah! Halt/Pauline fluff is the adorableness. Seriously, they're so fun to write - even though I find it hard to write for Pauline sometimes.

Oh, and one other thing - I'm curious how many of you actually read my author's notes, and/or pay attention to what I say in them. So, for everyone reading this, please include the word "dood" in your review (if you do review, that is).

-pixie.


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: Well, to clear up any confusion about the whole "dood" situation last chapter - it's just a misspelt version of the word "dude", and is rarely used by intelligent readers such as yourselves, hence why I chose it as a code-word of sorts.

Also, sorry that I'm kind of speeding through things a little now, but I'm worried if I spend much longer on this fic then I'll get bored and writer's block will set in again. I have a lot of the later stuff planned out already, but where I am now, I'm just making up the story as I go along, and that's surprisingly draining. This is already my longest story words-wise, and I'm really running out of stuff that I can do with Halt's predicament that won't become repetitive. So, unfortunately, life among Halt and the other characters we have grown so familiar with will be mentioned fairly sparingly after this chapter.

But, regardless, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

.:':. .:':. .:':.

After Pauline had kissed him, Halt found himself turning to her company even more often than before. She helped him through his sightings of Will, which were now happening as frequently as once a week. As time went on, it became easier and easier for him to ignore the sight of his dead apprentice, but it still tore at his heart whenever it happened. She knew there was no way that this would ever stop, that he would ever get over Will's death, but she managed to soothe him sufficiently enough each time that she felt she was at least helping.

It came to the surprise of very few when they stated their intention to marry.

The wedding wasn't as quiet an affair as Halt could have hoped for, but he bore the fairly extensive guest list rather well. Whilst he felt that Will should have been the best man, therefore tinging his disposition with melancholy, Gilan stepped up to the role and performed splendidly, all things considered.

Cementing his relationship with Pauline did seem to increase Halt's mood exponentially, but those closest to him knew his tendency to be grim and taciturn in general would likely be quick to return. They could only hope that Pauline had the strength and patience to be able to support him in the years to come. With her Courier training and deep love for the grizzled old Ranger, it seemed likely that she would.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

With Kaileen's mother's okay, Liam and Kaileen were now openly dating. She wore the wooden flower bracelet he had given her as often as she could, only taking it off to sleep or when engaging in an activity where it could potentially get damaged. Her brothers would often tease her good-naturedly about their relationship, but they were all genuinely pleased that she had found someone that she loved so much. They had all met with Liam on numerous occasions, and had all liked what they saw in him.

Their meetings in the forest that separated their farms still continued. Kaileen loved its wild beauty and Liam felt at home in the cool green shade. They would often explore its depths, and were rewarded with the discovery of a wide natural clearing, shaped roughly like an arched window. A carpet of green grass stretched before them, studded with little white flowers. Liam spun in a slow circle, a wide grin splitting his features.

"Look at this, Kaileen!" he breathed excitedly. "It's huge! We'd only need to clear a few trees to be able to build a farm here. Of course, we'd need to make a path through the forest to get to the main road, but that wouldn't take too much." Sighing happily, he let himself fall backwards into the soft, knee-high grass, disappearing from Kaileen's view. She moved alongside him and folded her legs beneath her, far more gracefully than his inelegant backwards flop. Smiling at him, she curled up at his side, her head pillowed on his shoulder. "We'd only need to till it a little bit," he continued, his voice reverberating through his chest into her ear. "At first, that is. I mean, it's only the two of us now, but as life goes on, things happen." He pushed himself onto his elbows so he could see her face, to make sure she wasn't uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading. She smiled contentedly at him and they both settled back into the grass. "I mean, it'd be nice to leave at least some of this grass for any children we might have to run around in." he said, finally airing the thought. "They'd need-"

Kaileen cut him off by repositioning herself so that her hands were on either side of his body and kissing him. With a slight shrug, Liam moved his lips to match the movement of hers. After a few moments, she broke away from him, some loose strands of black hair hanging over her shoulders, and gazed down at him with her dark grey eyes. He thought her eyes were beautiful - the colour of water over river stones, the colour of dusk.

"I love you," he told her quietly, plucking a nearby bloom and setting it behind her ear.

Her mouth curved happily. "I love you too." Then she was kissing him again, the flower falling from her hair as they rolled over through the grass.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Flushed and content, the couple made their way through the forest, hand in hand. They followed the gentle curve of the river to where it split off into a small lagoon, backed on one side by a range of cliffs about twelve metres in height. Kaileen splashed her hand experimentally through the water. "It's really nice," she told him, a smile lighting her face as an idea struck her. "Let's go for a swim!" Immediately, she stripped off her shoes and hose, her petticoated dress quickly following, and she stood only in a sleeveless chemise and a pair of drawers that tied at the knee. Liam blushed and turned his head to the side, unable to help glimpsing at her smooth, bare shoulders and calves.

She grinned at him. "Aren't you sweet?" she crowed, dancingly merrily to where he was standing. "Come on, you were talking earlier about what things would be like if we had children! How will that ever happen if you can't even look at me in my underclothes?"

Liam's only response was to turn a deeper shade of crimson. She giggled, rolled her eyes and turned her gaze to the placid surface of the lagoon. The water lapped first at her ankles, then her knees, then her waist as she waded further and further out. When only her head was bobbing free of the surface of the lagoon, she called out to him, "Look, you can't see anything now! It's all underwater!" She lifted one arm, droplets cascading from it, beckoning him to join her.

Mournfully, he shook his head. He had more than just being embarrassed as a motive to stay out of the water - he didn't really know how to swim. Oh, sure, he could float on his back in the river, but he'd never done more than that. He'd never gone out so far into a body of water that his feet could no longer touch the ground. He could see that Kaileen was much further out than he himself would be able to manage.

Frowning at his stubbornness, Kaileen swam back to shore. She rose from the water, dripping wet. Liam's blush, which had just started to recede, now flared up again in full force when he saw the way the soaked cloth of her undergarments clung to her skin. "Okay, something's wrong, and it's not just you being shy." A light of understanding dawned in her eyes. "You can't remember how to swim."

He glanced at her, wondering at her wording. Seeing his curiosity, she elaborated, "Most children around these parts know how to swim. We're not all that far from the sea - it's about half a day's walk there and back. You would have learnt to swim when you were younger, but because of your accident, you don't remember that you can." He nodded slowly, seeing the reasoning in her explanation. Now, she waved him impatiently. "So are you coming in or not?"

Finally making up his mind to join her, Liam took off his clothes so that he was standing only in his drawers. A blush had mounted on his face again as he waded into the shallows, but it faded as the cool water soothed his hot skin.

When he reached the point where the bottom of the lagoon was no longer in contact with his feet, he felt a moment of panic. But then Kaileen was there, gliding through the water like an otter, gently guiding him through the motions of the basic strokes. Tentatively, he mimicked her smooth strokes, finding the motion easier than expected.

Whilst not having the same calm grace that Kaileen seemed to exude in the water, Liam learnt - or, as she had suggested, relearnt - quickly. She praised him on his technique, and then playfully splashed him. Shaking water from his eyes, he returned in kind. It quickly escalated from there, both of them ending up in the shallows to use their arms to better effect in heaving masses of water at each other. They were both laughing when Kaileen hit him with a larger-than-usual spray of water, right in the mouth. She laughed even harder as he spluttered, then shrieked as he pushed her backwards into the water.

"Hey! That's not very gentlemanly of you!" she protested.

He shrugged. "Never said I was a gentleman," he told her, but offered her his hand anyway. She grasped it, moving forward slightly then suddenly heaving back. Caught by surprise, Liam toppled into the water next to her. They stared at each other for a moment, a wide smile on Kaileen's face, a slightly bemused one on his. Then they started cackling like mad hens.

"You should have seen your face when I pulled you off your feet," she gasped out between peals of laughter.

"You should have heard yourself scream when I pushed you over," he countered, grinning.

She rolled her eyes at him, and then her gaze snapped to the cliffs. "Hey, do you think we could get up there?"

Liam eyed the cliffs critically. They were roughly uniform in height to one side of the lagoon, but swept down to ground level at their left. He pointed this out to her now.

"Let's go then," she told him, striking out for the shore. Liam followed her, but when he reached for his clothes, she told him to leave there. He wondered where she was going with this as he found them a clear path to the top of the cliffs.

When they got there, he quickly found out, and he didn't like it at all.

"We're going to jump," he said disbelievingly as her eyes shone with excitement. "How do you know we won't just… you know… splatter against the bottom of the lagoon?"

"The water's deep enough," she replied, hopping from foot to foot in anticipation. "It probably goes down about five or six meters at the base of the cliff, maybe further. I was diving down there earlier and i couldn't even reach the bottom."

"Still, are you absolutely sure about this?" he asked her sceptically, eyeing the drop. "It doesn't seem entirely…" he trailed off as she ran off the edge with a whoop. "…Safe," he finished quietly as he heard her splash into the waters below. Lying on his stomach with his head poking over the ledge, he peered anxiously at the receding ripples that were the only trace of where Kaileen had gone. A few moments later, she burst through the surface, grinning.

"You have got to try this!"

Liam gulped nervously. It was a fair drop down into the lagoon. Even though he coped fairly well with heights, it didn't seem feasible that hitting the water after falling for about fifteen meters wouldn't result in injury, despite having just seen Kaileen do so without coming to harm.

"Come on Liam, you can do it!" she called up to him, her upturned face about the size of Liam's thumbnail as he gazed down at her in trepidation. He took a few deep breaths, and sternly reminded himself that someone like the Rangers who had saved him earlier that year wouldn't hesitate to jump into the lagoon. An image suddenly sprang into his mind of a Ranger diving from the rock, cloak, daggers, bow and arrows and all, and felt the crazy urge to laugh. Kaileen called up some more encouragement, and, screwing up all his courage, he got up, took a few steps back, ran towards the edge of the rock and jumped.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: I know I should have expanded more about Halt and Pauline's wedding, but I think it's fairly well-covered in-book already, so just use that as your basis.

I apologise for the slight lateness, but I've been a bit sick for the past few days and I've subsequently been very tired. To make up for it, this is the longest chapter so far (though admittedly not by much - one word, in fact), and I've also posted a one-shot called Mortal that you may enjoy. As always, I hope you liked the chapter!

-pixie.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: I know I said stuff with the original characters in it would be sparing last chapter, but I got an interesting suggestion in a review that just made my fingers fly across the keyboard - I got the whole of it down in less than half an hour. The Liam/Kaileen stuff took considerably longer, though. :P So, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to SonicGirl2002 for her wonderful suggestion.

Hope you all enjoy reading this chapter as much as I did writing it!

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Halt closed his eyes, ignoring the latest apparition of Will. He knew if he didn't look at it, it would just fade away, like all the others. They were all fleeting, peripheral images, never staying for more than a few seconds.

That's why Halt's heart skipped a beat when he glanced back at the spot where he had seen the apparition and it was still standing there. He stood in shock for a few moments, then finally asked, "Will? Is that really you?"

The spectre turned sad eyes on him. "I think we both know the answer to that, Halt."

Staggering back a few paces, the grizzled Ranger sank into a chair before his legs went out from underneath him. Whenever he had seen the image of Will, it had never been for more than a few seconds. And he'd never had it talk back.

Now, his apprentice was standing before him, seemingly solid and aware.

A small moan escaped Halt's lips and he buried his face in his hands. His apprentice was dead. How, other than having completely lost his mind, was it possible for him to be having a conversation with a dead boy?

The spectre-Will took a few steps forward, placing his hand comfortingly on his mentor's shoulder. Halt jerked away from the touch as if he had been burnt. Being at worst a figment of his crazed imagination, at best a ghost, Halt had assumed any contact, if it occurred, would be cold and insubstantial. But he had felt the weight and heat of Will's hand on his shoulder, and that shocked him more than anything else.

Will sighed and pulled out a chair, placing it to face Halt. "It wasn't your fault."

Halt's attention snapped back to the boy facing him. "What?"

"The bandits. What happened. It wasn't your fault." The ghost of a smile touched his lips. "If anything, it was my fault." Halt looked at him quizzically, but his gaze was mixed with hope. When most people told him that it hadn't been his fault, he had felt the words were hollow. But when his apprentice, the victim of those bad decisions, assured him the blame laid elsewhere, he was far more inclined to believe it.

"How?" he finally managed to croak.

"I was too eager to get back to field work, too willing to convince myself that I was okay, that I pushed away the logical part of my mind that was telling me I wasn't ready yet.

"I covered it up pretty well, I think. But in hindsight, that's probably not something to be proud of. I knew that if you realised something was wrong, you'd make sure I was completely recovered before you even let me go out of the house. That's why I fobbed it off as just me sleeping badly." His mouth twisted wryly. "Though that was mostly true - I was having nightmares about being a slave again almost every night. Working the paddles, the Committee…" He shuddered, staring off into nothing. "The worst was always when I dreamt I was still under the effects of warmweed."

His gaze returned to Halt now. "But that doesn't matter. My point is, it wasn't your fault. It was mine. Please, Halt, if I meant anything to you, stop blaming yourself. It's killing me." He considered his words for a moment. "Well, you know what I mean."

An immense sense of relief flooded through Halt.

Will didn't blame him.

All the agony and pain of the self-blame that had riddled Halt in the months following Will's death was swept away, leaving him feeling light-headed with joy. When Lady Pauline walked through the door, she only had a second to take in Halt facing an empty chair before he swept her into an embrace, the tears streaming freely down his cheeks. Confused, she wrapped her arms around her husband, patting his back soothingly. He was mumbling something into her hair, and although she couldn't quite make out the words, the tone sounded surprisingly happy.

She gently pulled away from him, tilting her head down slightly so she could look into his eyes. "Halt, I can't understand you when you talk into my shoulder. What is it?"

The biggest smile she had ever seen on the Ranger's face beamed up at her. "What happened to Will… it wasn't my fault," he whispered, throwing his arms around his wife once more. Pauline wasn't sure where this epiphany had come from, but she was glad for the change it had wrought on Halt. A small smile graced her lips as she returned his embrace.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Kaileen and Liam, both living on farms and having to pull their share, were only able to spend any measureable time together once every few weeks, a little more if they were lucky. As it was, they made the best of their situation. They would arrange to meet at two oak trees near the river that had merged and twined until their branches were indistinguishable as belonging to one or the other, a place roughly halfway between their respective farms.

Their usual meeting day was on Sevenday, the last day of the week. Traditionally on farms, Sevenday was a day of rest past noon. However, sometimes circumstances arose that resulted with work having to continue well into the afternoon, meaning there wouldn't be enough daylight left to make the journey to the oak trees and back - not even taking into consideration any time the two would want to spend together. This meant that often one of them would be waiting for the other without knowing whether or not they would even turn up. It was a measure of the strength of their feelings for each other that this didn't put any strain on their relationship.

At one such gathering, nestled in the twisted root system of the twin oaks, Kaileen told him happily how her mother had finally given birth to her baby - a healthy little girl with her mother's blue eyes and a head of wispy black hair. "It'll probably turn blonde like Pa's when she gets older, though," she continued. "Would you believe it, when my hair first started growing, it was as blonde as butter." Liam glanced at her sceptically at this information. There was no evidence in the thick black sheen of her hair that it had ever been a lighter shade, let alone a different colour.

Smiling a little, she rolled her eyes at him, seeing the disbelief played out on his face. "I can tell you don't believe me, but that doesn't make it less true."

She sighed as she glanced at the sun's position between the foliage of the trees. "I have to head back home now, else I won't get back before dark."

Liam nodded, leaning forward to kiss her lightly. "I wish we could spend more time together."

Kaileen lifted her hand to caress his cheek, and he caught it there. "Me too," she replied wistfully. His hand dropped but maintained its grip on her own, bringing them both down to waist height. With reluctance, and one last kiss, she broke away from him, shook out her skirts and slipped through the trees, heading back to her home.

He was just about to get up and leave himself when a glint of reflected sunlight caught his eye. He crouched down at the spot and saw a small, moss-green rock about the size of the nail on his pinkie finger. The piece had been worn smooth by the rushing current of the river to form an almost perfect circular shape. It had obviously only recently been thrown up onto the riverbank - the sunlight had reflected off a combination of the stone's natural properties and the sheen of water covering it. Liam ran a finger over its smooth surface, admiring the different depths of green. Pocketing the small stone, he turned around and made his way towards home.

When he got there, he made the usual greetings to his parents and the animals - the array of chickens, the few pigs and the lone milking cow, Millie, that comprised their livestock. He spent a few minutes grooming their newly acquired horse, Morgan. With feathered white fetlocks and a white blaze running up his muzzle, the roan was stocky and a bit smaller than the average draughthorse, but still did his job well. In a little over a year, Morgan would pay for himself with the increased work rate he brought to the farm. Having a horse meant they could almost double the amount of land they could farm, as they were able to properly prepare more ground for cultivation than they would have been able to with just the power of three people.

After taking care of the horse, Liam still had about half an hour to knock off before dinner was ready, so he went into his bedroom and carefully pulled out his project.

Liam had decided quite a while ago that he was going to marry Kaileen. Marriage rules often changed depending on which locality you visited - the earliest wedding age in Barbeck - the village that held the market day which Liam's family visited - was eighteen, but this was unusually high. Most places were as low as fifteen or sixteen. Others had odd figures like sixteen and five months. David had told him he'd once been to a place where the marrying age was fifteen years, nine months and eight days, but Liam didn't really believe his father on that score.

Now, he carefully extracted two of three unfinished rings from a small wooden box. They were nowhere near completion - right now, they were still roughly hewn, without any of the details added. He intended on having two as fairly simple bands of smooth wood, polished to a high sheen to accentuate the changes in the grain. These would be worn by both himself and Kaileen from day to day, as they would require very little maintenance other than to be kept out of water and polished occasionally.

The third ring, however, would be a far more intricate matter. He'd even bought some additional carving tools specifically for this piece. He would painstakingly carve miniature primroses and violets along its length - Kaileen's two favourite flowers. This would be the ring he presented to her at their wedding, later changing it for one of the two simpler bands. It was unlikely that she would have many opportunities to wear the flowery ring afterwards, but Liam was more focused on what the ring meant than practicality.

Of course, he knew the entire concept of having rings was unconventional - rings were more often made of precious metals, which were generally very expensive and hard to come by. This, added to the fact that such things were worn sparingly by farm-folk as they would easily get dirtied and tarnished, meant this was a custom generally reserved for the merchant class and above. Farmers usually broke a coin and husband and wife would each take one piece to keep. But carving the rings from wood would trump any cost or maintenance issues nicely.

He decided to work on the two simpler rings before progressing onto the flower-carved one reserved for Kaileen. Even these relatively plain pieces would take several hours to complete - making sure they were perfectly round and even, without any bumps or kinks, polishing them to silky smoothness, applying layer after layer of lacquer from a small tin that Liam had obtained the previous market day for that exact purpose. He was just about to start on the first ring when he remembered the small green stone in his pocket. Setting down his whittling knife, he fished out the little rock and studied it in the sunlight slanting through the window. The water that had shimmered on its surface when he'd found it had long dried, but it still glistened in the light. He turned it on its side, noting that the back of it was rough and cut off abruptly from the sides, as if it had been part of a larger rock but then split off. The front, however, shone with deep green. It was quite a beautiful stone, he thought, even if it was just a river pebble.

A sudden flash of inspiration struck him. He could mount the stone in Kaileen's ring! His mind was already working furiously, the mental image he'd had of the arrangement of the flowers on the ring shifting to accommodate the little green pebble. He'd have to cut away a piece of the ring to insert the stone, and then glue a new sliver of wood in place afterwards. That could be tricky, but if he altered the pattern to have the stem of a flower loop over the top of the ring, the incision would be mostly hidden. The main problem would be making sure he didn't accidentally cut through the ring entirely, as there would be only a very small incision and little room for error. He'd have to practice a few times on spare pieces of wood, but he was confident it would work if he was careful enough.

Smiling, he placed the stone with the ring still in the box and, selecting one of the two rings he had already taken out, bent his head and set to work.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: New longest chapter! Not including author's notes (because really, they don't count as story material), this one is the first to break the two-thousand-word mark at 2,241 words. *sets off a multitude of party poppers*

Also, the bit about Kaileen's sister's hair changing colour as she got older was inspired by my own similar experience - a few years back, I found a baby photo of a little girl, probably a few months old, with a thatch of black hair and eyes so dark brown you couldn't tell apart iris and pupil. I asked my mum who it was, and I didn't believe her at first when she told me it was me – I now have golden blonde hair and hazel-green eyes. My hair was blonde by the time I was one, but my eyes lightened much more gradually; they only faded from brown to hazel when I was about thirteen, and they've only had green in them for about a year and a half. My dad's the same, though his eyes are, obviously, further along, being blue with an inner ring of green.

But enough about genetics. I'm sure you have more important things to do with your time than to read my ramblings. Enjoy the rest of your day!

-pixie.


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: *hides behind a panel of missile-proof glass* I know, I'm terrible. I had the incredibly bright idea to build wearable Halo 3 armour from foam in a restricted time period, so that's been taking up all my spare time these past few months. All done now though, so I'm back to writing. Hope you enjoy! (Warning: I am seriously concerned with getting a complete writer's block with this story - I mean, come on, it's been almost a year since I posted for it - so from now on, the story will pretty much be snippets of life through the years for Liam and Kaileen, and little if any revisiting of the original RA cast. This also means there'll only be two, maybe three chapters to go. Sorry if that makes it seem disjointed).

.:':. .:':. .:':.

"Liam Newman, if you don't stop fidgeting, God help me I will beat you to death with this comb!" Ava scolded her son despairingly. "Do you really want Kaileen to be widowed on the day of her marriage?"

"Sorry mum," Liam replied meekly, straightening convulsively as two trickles of ice-cold water dribbled down his back. His mother had wet his hair as she combed it in an attempt to help it lie flat. It wasn't working.

Liam had proposed to Kaileen the previous spring. He had finished carving the rings about a month before he turned eighteen, and from then he had counted down the days until he was of marrying age and would be allowed to propose to her. The marital laws of Tanree fief were rather convoluted, in that even when the two parties intending to marry were of age, unless circumstance dictated otherwise - such as pregnancy - the wedding would take place a year and a day after a proposal had been set forth, which could only be made once both parties were of marrying age.

He smiled as he remembered the day. Kaileen's eyes had lit up with pure joy and happiness - then she had laughingly flung her arms around his neck, spinning them both in a circle and gleefully telling him that she accepted. The smile slipped from his face as he winced, his mother's comb pulling uncomfortably at his scalp as it hit yet another snag.

Ava continued to fuss over his hair, trying in vain to make it lie neatly on his head. Eventually, she gave up and took out her scissors. "We can't have you with those unruly locks at your wedding," she told him as she snipped away at his curls. "The way it must swing into your eyes! If you were a girl, of course, you could just tie it back." She shook her head. "I would never be able to deal with it at that length. Promise me you'll keep it short afterwards?"

"Of course, mum," he said meekly, despite having every intention of growing it out as soon as was possible. He didn't like the way that the scar over his right ear became more prominent when his hair was shorter. Besides, longer hair kept the sun off his neck when he was working in the fields. However, he considered his mother's threat to beat him with the comb to be at least half-serious, and figured complaining would fall in the same column as fidgeting. The danger seemed even greater now that she had a sharp pair of scissors at her disposal.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

"You're beautiful," Liam murmured.

Kaileen grinned at him. "That'd be the wedding dress." The service had ended several hours ago, and all the guests had left to allow the new couple to enjoy their first night as husband and wife in privacy.

"I mean it," he told her earnestly, cradling her in his arms.

She smiled seductively. "Well, if it's not doing anything, maybe I should take it off?"

Liam immediately blushed and stared stammering, ruining the moment. Kaileen rolled her eyes. "Liam, I love you. We're married now, it's our wedding night, we're going to see each other without clothes on whether you feel embarrassed about it or not!" She pursed her lips. "Unless you _don't_ want to see what's under here." She gestured at her soft white dress, tied at the waist with a simple blue ribbon.

"No, I do," he protested. "I just-"

"Shouldn't have a problem with it!" she fumed, turning her back on him. "I'll make it easy," she tossed over her shoulder. "Untie the ribbon."

He fumbled with the knot, feeling his ears growing red. Eventually, he undid the knot, hands on Kaileen's waist, only the thin fabric of her dress and undergarments separating his skin from hers. Feeling a sudden surge of confidence, he pulled her in close. "Okay, what now?" he whispered in her ear, voice husky.

Her lips curled into a sensual smile. "Now, the dress." And off it came. Kaileen stood before him, only in her thin undergarments.

Liam hesitated. "Are you completely sure?"

"Are you?" She looked at him frankly, hands on hips. "Liam, I wouldn't have agreed to marry you if I wasn't sure. Isn't that what this means?" She waggled her left hand, which was adorned with the plain wooden wedding band he had made.

"I'm sorry, I just..." he ran a hand through his hair, subconsciously running his thumb along the ridged scar behind his ear."You're always so confident in this, and I have no clue what I'm doing, I feel like I'll... I don't know..."

"Make a fool of yourself?" she suggested softly, shaking her head. "Please don't worry about that. And don't change. I love how sensitive and caring you are in these things. A lot of men see their wives as objects of sex, and care little about them otherwise. You've no idea some of the horrors the village wives will warn the girls about - but you're different than that. You're amazing, Liam, and I love you. Will you give me my wedding night?"

A warm glow spread through him, flooding his senses. He kissed her in way of response, slowly lifting the last of her clothing from her body.

"You're beautiful," he murmured.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Rain trickled down the furrows in Liam's forehead, mingling with his sweat. His shirt plastered unpleasantly to his back, but he ignored the discomfort.

He and Kaileen had taken over the land between their parents' farms, enlisting the help of both families to build their new home. They had been living there now a few months shy of a year. This was the house's first experience with the torrential spring rains, and the roof had sprung a number of leaks, a steady trickle of water wetting almost everything in the house. This was why Liam was perched precariously on the slanted roof, plugging the holes with strands of oily sheepskin and tar.

After he'd plugged the last leak, Liam turned and leapt nimbly from the roof, landing lightly on his feet with his fingertips bracing him on the ground. He groaned as he stood and stretched, spine cracking after such a long period bent over on the roof. Movement caught his eye at the end of the narrow lane leading to their farm. He squinted through the rain, making out the figure of a cloaked man and a badly limping horse some fifty metres away. Concerned about the obviously poor state of the horse - and the possible poor state of its rider - Liam set up a light jog, giving the rider a friendly wave. "Hello. What seems to be the problem?"

The rider, who had stopped his horse and was giving its leg a worried examination, jerked in surprise. Liam regarded him with interest. A short, stocky horse, longbow case, double scabbard, a mottled cloak...

_Ranger_.

A thrill ran through Liam. He was actually meeting a Ranger! "Your horse looks in a bad way. The village is another half-day's walk from here - won't you bring her into our stable? It won't be good for her to walk through this rain any longer than she has to."

"Lightning hit a mud pit hidden behind some fallen branches and twisted her ankle. I wanted to get her out of the rain so she didn't get sick, but there's nowhere for kilometres." The voice was surprisingly young, and the Ranger seemed a little disconcerted with Liam's forward offer of help. He had learnt - both from his master and from experience - that common folk regarded Rangers with a weary suspicion. But this strange farmer was offering shelter for Lightning, and he wasn't about to refuse. "If you're sure it's alright, I'd gladly accept stabling for Lightning."

Liam cast him a curious look. "What about you?"

The Ranger waved a hand diffidently. "I'll sleep in the stable with Lightning."

"Don't worry about imposing on my home," Liam assured him, reading between the lines. "We have an unoccupied room you can use; I promise you can stay there as long as it takes for Lightning to recover."

"I'd prefer the stable," the Ranger told him uncomfortably.

Liam grinned. "What I mean is, you don't have a choice. The stable's only meant for one horse, it'll be enough of a squeeze getting Lightning in with Morgan without worrying about getting you in there too!" The Ranger grudgingly conceded that Liam had a point.

By now, they had reached the small stable nestled into the side of the house. A small overhang gave them just enough space to brush down the sodden Lightning, whilst keeping her out of the rain. "I'm Liam, by the way," he informed the Ranger, shaking his wet hair from his eyes and sticking out a hand.

"Colin, Ranger's apprentice," he replied, gripping Liam's hand in a firm handshake. He flipped back his cowl, revealing a fine thatch of sandy hair and a pair of warm brown eyes not dissimilar to Liam's own. His youthful face marked him as Liam's junior by several years.

"Is this your first solo mission?" Liam inquired as they returned to their work.

Colin nodded. "If you can call it that. The Ranger stationed at Tanree is set to retire around the time I should graduate into a fully-fledged Ranger, and my mentor told me I should get familiar with the lay of the land well before I take over the post. That's what I was doing, at least until Lightning..." he trailed off, eyes clouding with worry.

"Lightning'll just need a few days rest," Liam reassured him, remembering his own similar experience with their shaggy roan workhorse, Morgan, in the previous autumn. A knot of wood buried just under the surface of the field had caused him to twist his ankle, putting him out of commission for almost a week. "Come on, she's brushed down now. Let's get her in the stall."

Liam had been right - it was quite a tight fit, made worse by the fact that Lightning had a limp, and that they had to back her into the stall so she could reach the food and water troughs. Morgan seemed disgruntled about having to share his space with this strange horse, but, being the placid beast he was, put up a token resistance. Both Colin and Liam stepped back out into the rain, as there was not enough space under the alcove with the two horses in the stall.

"Lucky you Rangers breed your horses are so small," Liam commented. "If she'd been the size of Morgan, there'd be no way she would have fit in!"

"Thank you for offering your hospitality," Colin told him seriously. "Lightning probably would've gotten sick if we'd had to walk all the way to the village, or worse. You probably saved her career as a Ranger horse, maybe even her life. You have no idea how much your help means to me."

A warm glow spread through Liam at this genuine appreciation. "Think nothing of it." He rubbed his hands together. "Now I don't know about you, but I'd really like to get out of this wet. Won't you let me show you inside?" He gestured at the door.

Colin nodded gratefully. He'd already flipped his hood back up again to shield himself from the constant dripping rain, and he'd just about lost sensation in his extremities. "I could think of nothing better."

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: Sorry to fans of the "steamier" fics, but that bit with Liam and Kaileen is probably as close as you'll ever get from me. :P

Also, Colin is fun to write. If I ever need a random Ranger cameo, I'll probably use him.

-pixie.


	22. Chapter 22

"Liam? Who's there?" Kaileen asked tentatively, stepping from the bedroom. She gingerly cradled her stomach, swollen in the final stages of pregnancy.

"It's alright, Kaileen," he said soothingly, but her eyes widened drastically as she took in the cloaked figure behind him.

"A Ranger!" she squeaked. "Why's there a Ranger? What's happened?" she backed up a few steps.

"Sweetheart, please, nothing's happened," Liam assured her, clasping her hands in his own reassuringly. Despite their dampness, she relaxed visibly. "His horse is injured, I promised him I'd let him wait here while she recovers."

She glanced warily at the Ranger, who was leaning his bow case and quiver against the door. "But he's a _Ranger_!" she whispered, having long ago lost her child-like awe of their abilities. Now, there was only wariness. "Everyone knows they dabble in the black arts."

"I _promised_, Kaileen," he insisted, tossing over his shoulder, "Besides, you don't really practice black magic, do you Colin?"

"_Liam!_" she hissed, horrified.

Colin, who had now taken off his distinctive Ranger's cloak, gave Kaileen a warm smile. "Of course not. Sorry if the cloak makes me look imposing, it's just part of the job. I'm Colin, Ranger's apprentice." He offered her his hand. Somewhat disarmed, both by his demeanour and rank, she took it, shaking it once.

"Kaileen, farmer's wife," she joked weakly.

He grinned. "And quite a catch too! Well done there, Liam!"

Liam reddened, always quick to embarrassment. Kaileen winced, cradling her abdomen. Liam immediately crouched down in front of her, a concerned expression on his face. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine, the baby's just kicking." Her voice was slightly strained. "I swear, it'll be out any day now. I should go lie down." He immediately stood up and led her back into the bedroom, helping her back into their bed. When he returned, Colin had already stripped to his undershirt and trousers, his other clothing strung over various pieces of furniture to dry. He himself was standing in front of the fireplace, warming his chilled skin with the heat radiating from the embers.

"Hope you don't mind," he said, indicating his makeshift drying racks.

"Of course not. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Do you have any coffee?" Colin asked hopefully. There had been a small leak in his pack, and his own supply had been ruined.

"No such luxuries here, I'm afraid."

Colin sighed dejectedly, knowing it had been a long shot. Coffee was staple to any Ranger's life. Even an apprentice Ranger. He didn't much enjoy the prospect of going without, but knew there was nothing he could do about it. Liam regarded him with open curiosity. "What's it like, being a Ranger's apprentice?"

"Hard." Colin grinned ruefully, his hands splayed in front of him to soak in the warmth of the embers. "But it's rewarding, in the end. When I graduate, I'll be keeping this fiefdom safe, and in the event of war, I'll be involved in retaliatory strategies. I'll be protecting people, keeping them free from harm, and getting criminals off the streets. I'll make my mentor proud. I'll take everything he's taught me and use it to do my job well."

Liam regarded him admiringly, but not without a small pang of jealousy. Here he was, a few years older than Colin, and his life was nowhere near as exciting.

"I do miss home a lot, though," Colin continued wistfully. "I stay at my mentor's cabin, and I only get to visit my family once a month, if that. Even when I become a fully-fledged Ranger, I won't be able to see them often. I'll be too busy taking care of the fief for me to leave for a couple of days to visit them." He stared without seeing into the embers, lost in thought. Liam immediately felt that he'd been ungrateful of his own life; sure, the Ranger's life was exciting and mysterious, but Liam had a budding family that he wouldn't give up for all the adventure in Araluen.

"I-"

"Liam?" Kaileen called from the bedroom, her voice somehow both calm and strained. "My water's just broken."

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Initially, Liam had panicked. The baby hadn't been due for another week, so the midwife had not yet arrived. However, by an incredible stroke of luck, Colin's mother was a midwife, so he knew the basics of birthing a child. With Colin's assistance, Kaileen gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Both Kaileen and Liam wanted to name the child after Colin, but he baulked at the idea, as he felt he was unworthy of such high esteem. In the end, the child was named Thomas, for Colin's mentor.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Upon his graduation, Colin was in fact assigned to Tanree fief. He maintained his friendship with Liam and Kaileen, although she was always slightly wary of him. Thomas - who, at the age of four, had been joined by twins Adam and Ella - was fascinated by Rangers. Every time Colin visited, he wheedled a story out of the Ranger. The exploits of the late Ranger's apprentice Will were always his favourite, and it was a source of immense pride for him that his father's life had been saved by someone so famous. As it was, Thomas was determined to become a Ranger himself when he was old enough. This led to him constantly practicing sneaking up on people and generally getting into places that he shouldn't (much to the detriment of his mother).

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Liam's sweat-drenched hair swung into his eyes no matter how many times he brushed it away, but he was still grinning with pride. A freshly turned field stretched in front of him, steaming gently in the heat of the lazy afternoon sun. Later, with the help of Thomas - now six years old - he would sow the seeds for the next year's crop. His grin faded as he picked out the figure of the fief's Ranger on his horse trotting towards his farm, carrying a struggling Thomas under his arm. Leaning on his plough, Liam squinted against the sun and called a greeting once the Ranger was close enough to hear. "Hello, Ranger Colin. What sort of trouble has my boy managed to get himself into this time?" He smiled wearily. "Nothing too serious, I hope."

The Ranger didn't reply, and Liam frowned. His frown only deepened as the Ranger stopped a few meters away, still holding the squirming child under one arm and pushing off his hood with the other.

"You're not Ranger Collin," Liam said stupidly. Colin was only a few years younger than Liam, with straight, sandy hair cut short and laughing blue eyes. The man in front of him now was vastly older, with liberally greyed hair and dark eyes.

"No, I'm not. I'm Ranger Halt, and this," he replied, placing Thomas back on his feet, who quickly ran to his father's side, "is a nuisance of a child. Yours, from what you've told me. I found him trying to sneak up on me while I made camp after returning home from a mission. I heard him before he'd come within fifty meters of where I was, and I let him, wondering what such a small child was doing floundering through the forest anyway, and then he had the nerve to try and tackle me from behind. He failed, obviously. I managed to stop him complaining for long enough to find out where he lived, and otherwise he's been an annoyance the entire time."

Halt... The name rang a bell. Suddenly, it clicked. Halt was the mentor of the Ranger's apprentice, Will, the one who had saved Liam all those years ago, and then had died soon after. Internally, Liam groaned. Of all the Rangers his son could have possibly annoyed, it had to be the one who had saved his own life. He pushed himself off the plough and knelt down so he was at Thomas' height, placing his hands on his son's shoulders. "Now Thomas," he said sternly, "it's not very nice to try to tackle people when they're making camp. It's not very nice to tackle anyone when they're doing anything." He saw the question on the tip of Thomas' tongue and answered it before it could be voiced. "If they're doing something bad, then maybe, yes you can, if you'll be safe enough after doing so, but Ranger Halt wasn't doing anything bad, was he?" Thomas shook his head. "I didn't think so."

"I jus' wanna be a 'prentice," he mumbled.

Smiling gently, Liam smoothed his son's tangled black mop. "I know. But that doesn't excuse your behaviour. Go and apologise to Ranger Halt."

Thomas obligingly trundled back towards Halt. "Sorry for trying t' tackle you, Ranger Halt. C'n I still be a 'prentice?" Liam had to laugh at the shocked look on Halt's face. He tried to force the laughter down, worried that the Ranger was already angry. Halt didn't exactly look to be a man you would cross lightly. However, a few chuckles escaped before he could stop them. He blanched as Halt's formidable eyebrows snapped down over his eyes. Instead of getting even madder, as Liam had thought he would, Halt's face softened and the corners of his mouth turned up in a flicker of a sad half-smile.

"You look exactly like my apprentice did whenever I found him doing something he wasn't supposed to. He-" Suddenly freezing, Halt's expression was blank other from his wide eyes. Liam could tell immediately this wasn't the same shock as just moments ago.

"Ranger Halt…? Are you alright?"

Halt stumbled forward a few steps, taking into closer consideration Liam's tangled mess of brown hair, his chocolate eyes - older now, but still the_ same_ - the soft expression of concern on his face, his eagerness to help. Through the confused haze of his mind telling him that this couldn't be happening, he could only utter one word.

"Will…"

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: *le gasp* Liam is Will? Drama! Plot twist! You know you love it.

And, since I did leave some clues throughout the chapters (starting right from when you find out Will's "dead" - I never actually called it Will's grave), some clever people already worked it out, or at least suspected it. In fact, I received a few very detailed reviews listing all the reasons they figured that Liam was Will - some of which I must have slipped in subconsciously, because I didn't notice the correlation until it was pointed out in said reviews. Anyway, kudos to those who figured it out! For those who didn't, don't despair. It doesn't mean you're not clever. Probably. :P

I'm not sure if this will come up, but I'll address it anyway just to be sure: the first time Halt sees Will, at the commemoration, it is really him. Later sightings, though, are just boys that have a slight resemblance to Will (brown hair and small stature, predominantly), and occasionally figments of his imagination (most notably the conversation that absolves Halt of his self-blame). The way I see Halt, apart from Will himself telling him it wasn't his fault, he would never let any circumstance of Will's death go. He'd always find some way to blame himself. Seeing Will as being alive, in a sense, would drive him mad more slowly than if he didn't, although that would give him a level of insanity anyway… it's confusing, I'm sorry. My thought processes are quite convoluted sometimes. I understand completely if you don't get it.

Also, I propose an experiment (you don't have to do it if you don't want to). Try reading this story from the beginning again, and see know knowing Will is Liam changes your perception of things - you might be surprised at all the little things you pick up that you missed!

-pixie.


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: Yeah, so I lied at the beginning. Will wasn't really dead, and Liam wasn't even an OC. He was more of an adopted persona for Will (but, I suppose, technically…). Oh well, what're you going to do? Find where I live? Ha! I'd like to see you try! (Actually, please don't. That'd just be weird.) Anyway, make sure to bring your machete, because we have a thickened plot up ahead! There's no death (or not-really-dying-though-it-seems-like-they-have), but oh, you're still gonna hate me for how I've ended it. *evil cackle*

You know, I love the word cackle. It just sounds cool, don't you think? It just rolls off the tongue… or in this case, fingers, seeing as I'm typing it on a keyboard. It kind of but not really reminds me of cake, which is something else I like. Very good for noms.

Okay, completely off track. Like Dory, from Finding Nemo. I've seen that movie so many times it's not funny. You know, I've never understood that phrase… At what point is it funny seeing a movie? I mean, it could be a comedy, but the actual, physical watching of the movie, how is that funny in the first place? And we apply it to other situations too, of course. And now I'm _off_ course. Again. *slaps self*

Umm, now where was I again…? Oh right, dramatic plot twist, yeah. Ahem. Continue on to the FINAL chapter, for those considerate few that bother and/or are bored enough to read my ramblings.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Liam had left the Ranger standing dumbstruck in the field whilst he took his son inside. He scooped up the twins, pressing them into Kaileen's arms and urging her to go for a walk in the sunshine with them. She had cast him a concerned look, burning with curiosity. She refrained from saying anything, however, knowing he would tell her when and if he felt that she needed to know. Only once she had disappeared into the forest, one twin in each arm and young Thomas clutching her skirt did he return to the field and lead Halt into his kitchen.

"Explain," Liam demanded, crossing his arms. "Why did you call me Will? I am Liam. Will saved my life. He's dead."

The old Ranger shook his head slowly, eyes glittering. "Don't you see? Ava and David - they've been masquerading as your parents this whole time! Liam - the real Liam - must have died after we brought him to them. Then, days later, they find you on the side of the road. They must have decided to raise you as their son in the real Liam's stead... How do you not know any of this? How do you not remember _anything_ of your childhood?" How could he forget his mentor?

Liam shifted uncomfortably. "I don't have any memory of my life before the accident," he finally confessed. "My parents said it was because I hit my head when I fell out of the tree..."

But Halt was already shaking his head. "You'd been captured by a troop of bandits, they hit you with the pommel of a sword, knocked you unconscious..."

He subconsciously ran a finger along the now barely discernible scar that tracked just over his right ear. All those years he'd thought it had been caused by a fall from a tree! Was it possible that the truth was it had been from being hit over the head with the hilt of a sword? His brain could barely process all the information and the subsequent implications.

Halt was still talking, pleading with him. "...And Alyss - she never stopped loving you, could never even contemplate the thought of finding someone else! Maybe because, deep down, _she knew you were still alive_. You have to come back to Redmont - you'll remember everything, you'll see!" His face shone with hope.

"And then what?" Liam replied, averting his eyes. "You're so sure I'll get my memories back, but in all likelihood, I won't. What'd happen then? I couldn't stay with a woman I have no recollection of, even if I did at one point love her! I have a life here. I have a _family_ here, a wife that I adore and children that I cherish. You can't ask me to leave that behind."

"Will, you don't understand! We need you to-"

He slammed his fist on the table, losing his calm. "I am not Will!" he shouted. "My name is Liam! I may have, at some point, been someone you were close with, but that personis_ gone_. You need to accept that and move on with your life!" His chest heaved in anger.

Taken aback by his ferocity, Halt nonetheless was still overrun by his emotions and kept pushing. "You have no idea how your death affected everyone you knew. If they knew you were alive - with no memory of them, but still _alive_-"

"I said no." Calmer now, Liam still had to force the words through gritted teeth. "I'm not going to Redmont, and I will _not_ allow you to bring _anyone_ from Will's life to this farm." His eyes blazed with conviction. "If you tell them, they'll have only your word that I… that_ he's _alive, with no desire to see any of them. They'll think you've gone mad. I won't let you tear my family apart over this." He folded his arms and turned away from the grizzled old man. "Now if you don't mind, Ranger Halt, I'd appreciate if you got the hell off my land."

Liam felt slightly sick. He didn't often get this angry, and he had a niggling worry that, still reeling with the outrageousness of the Ranger's claims, he was making a bad decision. But what else could he do? The Ranger couldn't seriously expect him to just abandon his family. Besides, it was too late to change his mind now, so he held firm. Halt opened his mouth to speak again, then sighed sadly and closed it.

A single tear ran down his stubbly cheek as he pulled a small bronze oakleaf pendant - the same one he had kept in his breast pocket all those years - and coiled it on the table. "Goodbye, Will," he murmured softly, leaving the room with an almost imperceptible swish of his cloak.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: Well, hope you all enjoyed Myriad Memories! Again, I apologise how it kind of tapered off at the end, but it was either this or no ending at all. :/ Any fans of Sherlock (BBC), I'll have a fanfic for that coming up soonish. Those who only read my Ranger's stuff, I'm sorry, but I think it'll be a while before I write for it again. If I do, it will almost definitely be reviving Ranger's Apprentice: Future of the Kingdom. If you haven't read that yet, please don't until updates start again - I'll be rewriting the chapters already up (mostly minor tweaks, but enough that you'll look at it in the end and be all 'why did she never address this plot point?' - it was because it was removed.)

Until next time,

-pixie.


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